I    CAN    MAKE    YOU    GOVERNOR    OF    THIS    STATE. 


.MR.    CREWE'S    CAREER 


BY 

WINSTON   CHURCHILL 

AUTHOR  OF  "RICHARD  CARVEL,"  "THE  CRISIS,'* 

**  THE   CROSSING,"    "  CONISTON,"    ETC. 


ILLUSTRATED 


THE   MACMILLAN   COMPANY 

1908 

All  rights  reserved 


COPYRIGHT,  1908, 
BY  THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY. 

Set  up  and  electrotyped.     Published  May,  1908.     Reprinted 
May,  June,  July,  August,  October,  1908. 


Ncrbjooti 

J.  S.  Cashing  Co.  — Berwick  &  Smith  Co. 
Norwood,  Mass.,  U.S.A. 


THE  MEN  WHO 

IN  EVERY  STATE  OF   THE  UNION 

ARE  ENGAGED  IN  THE   STRUGGLE  TOR 

PURER    POLITICS 

THIS  BOOK 
IS   DEDICATED 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER 

I.  THE    HONOURABLE    HILARY    VANE    SITS    FOR    HIS 

PORTRAIT 1 

II.  ON  THE  TREATMENT  OF  PRODIGALS  ....  11 

III.  CONCERNING  THE  PRACTICE  OF  LAW         ...  20 

IV.  "TIMEO  DANAOS" 35 

V.  THE  PARTING  OF  THE  WAYS 50 

VI.  ENTER  THE  LION 65 

VII.  THE  LEOPARD  AND  HIS  SPOTS 83 

VIII.  THE  TRIALS  OF  AN  HONOURABLE       .        .        .        .101 

IX.  MR.  CREWE  ASSAULTS  THE  CAPITAL  ....  129 

X.  "FOR    BILLS    MAY    COME,    AND    BILLS    MAY   GO "     .            .  147 

XL  THE  HOPPER 157 

XII.  MR.  REDBROOK'S  PARTY 178 

XIII.  THE  REALM  OF  PEGASUS 191 

XIV.  THE  DESCENDANTS  OF  HORATIUS       ....  215 
XV.  THE  DISTURBANCE  OF  JUNE  SEVENTH       .        .        .  241 

XVI.  THE  "  BOOK  OF  ARGUMENTS  "  is  OPENED  .        .        .  258 

XVII.  BUSY  DAYS  AT  WEDDERBURN 272 

XVIII.  A  SPIRIT  IN  THE  WOODS 293 

XIX.  MR.  JABE  JENNEY  ENTERTAINS 313 

XX.  MR.  CREWE  :   AN  APPRECIATION 332 

XXI.  ST.  GILES  OF  THE  BLAMELESS  LIFE   .        .        .        .346 

XXII.  IN   WHICH    EUPHRASIA    TAKES    A    HAND           .            .            .  357 

XXIII.  A  FALLING-OUT  IN  HIGH  PLACES       ....  371 

vii 


vin  CONTENTS 

CHAPTER 

PAGE 

XXIV.  AN  ADVENTURE  OF  VICTORIA'S       .        .        .        .380 

XXV.     MORE  ADVENTURES 393 

XXVI.  THE  Focus  OF  WRATH     ....                     415 

XXVII.  THE  ARENA  AND  THE  DUST     ....             431 

XXVIII.    THE  VOICE  OF  AN  ERA 462 

XXIX.  THE  VALE  OF  THE  BLUE  ....                     432 

XXX.  P.S.      ••.....                             499 


LIST   OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

« ' I  can  make  you  governor  of  this  State '"          .        .       Frontispiece 

FACING   PAGE 

«  She  raised  her  head  and  looked  at  Austen  in  a  curious,  inscru 
table  way " 34 

"  '  Do  tell  me  how  old  he  is,  and  how  many  more  you  have ' "      .     114 
"  ' I  thought  I'd  drop  in  to  shake  hands  with  you '"     .         .         .136 

"  '  I  ask  you  to  remember  that  you're  my  father,  and  that  —  I'm 

fond  of  you'" 188 

« '  You  know  that  a  woman  can  often  get  a  vote  when  a  man 

can't'" 276 

"'How  much  have  you  spent?'" 348 

"'Read that!'  he  said" 426 


ix 


MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 


CHAPTER  I 

THE  HONOURABLE   HILARY  VANE  SITS   FOR   HIS 
PORTRAIT 

I  MAY  as  well  begin  this  story  with  Mr.  Hilary  Vane, 
more  frequently  addressed  as  the  Honourable  Hilary  Vane, 
although  it  was  the  gentleman's  proud  boast  that  he  had 
never  held  an  office  in  his  life.  He  belonged  to  the  Vanes 
of  Camden  Street, —  a  beautiful  village  in  the  hills  near 
Riptori, —  and  was,  in  common  with  some  other  great  men 
who  had  made  a  noise  in  New  York  and  the  nation,  a 
graduate  of  Camden  Wentworth  Academy.  But  Mr.  Vane, 
when  he  was  at  home,  lived  on  a  wide,  maple-shaded  street 
in  the  "  city  "  of  Ripton,  cared  for  by  an  elderly  house 
keeper  who  had  more  edges  than  a  new-fangled  mowing 
machine.  The  house  was  a  porticoed  one  which  had  be 
longed  to  the  Austens  for  a  hundred  years  or  more,  for 
Hilary  Vane  had  married,  towards  middle  age,  Miss  Sarah 
Austen.  In  two  years  he  was  a  widower,  and  he  never  tried 
it  again;  he  had  the  Austens'  house,  and  that  many-edged 
woman,  Euphrasia  Cotton,  the  Austens'  housekeeper. 

The  house  was  of  wood,  and  was  painted  white  as  regu 
larly  as  leap  year.  From  the  street  front  to  the  vegetable 
garden  in  the  extreme  rear  it  was  exceedingly  long,  and  — 
perhaps  for  propriety's  sake  —  Hilary  Vane  lived  at  one 
end  of  it  and  Euphrasia  at  the  other.  Hilary  was  sixty- 
five,  Euphrasia  seventy,  which  is  not  old  for  frugal  people,  — 
though  it  is  just  as  well  to  add  that  there  had  never  been 
a  breath  of  scandal  about  either  of  them,  in  Ripton  or  else 
where.  For  the  Honourable  Hilary's  modest  needs  one 


2  MR.   CR  EWE'S  CAREER 

room  sufficed,  and  the  front  parlour  had  not  been  used  since 
poor  Sarah  Austen's  demise,  thirty  years  before  this  story 
opens. 

In  those  thirty  years,  by  a  sane  and  steady  growth, 
Hilary  Varie  had  achieved  his  present  eminent  position  in 
the  State.  He  was  trustee  for  I  know  not  how  many 
people  and  institutions,  a  deacon  in  the  first  church,  a 
lawyer  of  such  ability  that  he  sometimes  was  accorded  the 
courtesy-title  of  "  Judge."  His  only  vice  —  if  it  could 
be  called  such  —  was  in  occasionally  placing  a  piece,  the 
size  of  a  pea,  of  a  particular  kind  of  plug  tobacco  under 
his  tongue,  —  and  this  was  not  known  to  many  people. 
Euphrasia  could  not  be  called  a  wasteful  person,  and  Hilary 
had  accumulated  no  small  portion  of  this  world's  goods,  and 
placed  them  as  propriety  demanded,  where  they  were  not 
visible  to  the  naked  eye  :  and  be  it  added  in  his  favour 
that  he  gave  as  secretly,  to  institutions  and  hospitals  the 
finances  and  methods  of  which  were  known  to  him. 

As  concrete  evidence  of  the  Honourable  Hilary  Vane's 
importance,  when  he  travelled  he  had  only  to  withdraw 
from  his  hip  pocket  a  book  in  which  many  coloured  cards 
were  neatly  inserted,  an  open-sesame  which  permitted 
him  to  sit  without  payment  even  in  those  wheeled  palaces 
of  luxury  known  as  Pullman  cars.  Within  the  limits  of 
the  State  he  did  not  even  have  to  open  the  book,  but 
merely  say,  with  a  twinkle  of  his  eyes  to  the  conductor, 
"  Good  morning,  John,"  and  John  would  reply  with  a 
bow  and  a  genial  and  usually  witty  remark,  and  point  him 
out  to  a  nobody  who  sat  in  the  back  of  the  car.  So  far 
had  Mr.  Hilary  Vane's  talents  carried  him. 

The  beginning  of  this  eminence  dated  back  to  the  days 
before  the  Empire,  when  there  were  many  little  princi 
palities  of  railroads  fighting  among  themselves.  For  \ve 
are  come  to  a  changed  America.  There  was  a  time, 
in  the  days  of  the  sixth  Edward  of  England,  when  the 
great  landowners  found  it  more  profitable  to  consolidate 
the  farms,  seize  the  common  lands,  and  acquire  riches 
hitherto  undreamed  of.  Hence  the  rising  of  tailor  Ket 
and  others,  and  the  levelling  of  fences  and  barriers,  and 


HILARY  VANE  SITS  FOR  HIS  PORTRAIT       3 

the  eating  of  many  sheep.  It  may  have  been  that  Mr. 
Vane  had  come  across  this  passage  in  English  history, 
but  he  drew  no  parallels.  His  first  position  of  trust 
had  been  as  counsel  for  that  principality  known  in  the 
old  days  as  the  Central  Railroad,  of  which  a  certain  Mr. 
Duncan  had  been  president,  and  Hilary  Vane  had  fought 
the  Central's  battles  with  such  telling  effect  that  when  it 
was  merged  into  the  one  Imperial  Railroad,  its  stock 
holders —  to  the  admiration  of  financiers  —  were  guaran 
teed  ten  per  cent.  It  was,  indeed,  rumoured  that  Hilary 
drew  the  Act  of  Consolidation  itself.  At  any  rate,  he 
was  too  valuable  an  opponent  to  neglect,  and  after  a  cer 
tain  interval  of  time  Mr.  Vane  became  chief  counsel  in  the 
State  for  the  Imperial  Railroad,  on  which  dizzy  height 
we  now  behold  him.  And  he  found,  by  degrees,  that  he 
had  no  longer  time  for  private  practice. 

It  is  perhaps  gratuitous  to  add  that  the  Honourable 
Hilary  Vane  was  a  man  of  convictions.  In  politics  he 
would  have  told  you  —  with  some  vehemence,  if  you 
seemed  to  doubt  —  that  he  was  a  Republican.  Treason 
to  party  he  regarded  with  a  deep-seated  abhorrence,  as 
an  act  for  which  a  man  should  be  justly  outlawed.  If  he 
were  in  a  mellow  mood,  with  the  right  quantity  of  Honey 
Dew  tobacco  under  his  tongue,  he  would  perhaps  tell  you 
why  he  was  a  Republican,  if  he  thought  you  worthy  of 
his  confidence.  He  believed  in  the  gold  standard,  for  one 
thing ;  in  the  tariff  (left  unimpaired  in  its  glory)  for 
another,  and  with  a  wave  of  his  hand  would  indicate  the 
prosperity  of  the  nation  which  surrounded  him, — a  pros 
perity  too  sacred  to  tamper  with. 

One  article  of  his  belief,  and  in  reality  the  chief  article, 
Mr.  Vane  would  not  mention  to  you.  It  was  perhaps 
because  he  had  never  formulated  the  article  for  himself. 
It  might  be  called  a  faith  in  the  divine  right  of  Imperial 
Railroads  to  rule,  but  it  was  left  out  of  the  verbal  creed. 
This  is  far  from  implying  hypocrisy  to  Mr.  Vane.  It 
was  his  foundation-rock  and  too  sacred  for  light  conver 
sation.  When  he  allowed  himself  to  be  bitter  against 
various  "young  men  with  missions"  who  had  sprung  up 


4  MR.   CREWE'S  CAREER 

in  various  States  of  the  Union,  so-called  purifiers  of 
politics,  he  would  call  them  the  unsuccessful  with  a  griev 
ance,  and  recommend  to  them  the  practice  of  charity, 
forbearance,  and  other  Christian  virtues.  Thank  God, 
his  State  was  not  troubled  with  such. 

In  person  Mr.  Hilary  Vane  was  tall,  with  a  slight  stoop 
to  his  shoulders,  and  he  wore  the  conventional  double- 
breasted  black  coat,  which  reached  to  his  knees,  and 
square-toed  congress  boots.  He  had  a  Puritan  beard, 
the  hawk-like  Vane  nose,  and  a  twinkling  eye  that  spoke 
of  a  sense  of  humour  and  a  knowledge  of  the  world.  In 
short,  he  was  no  man's  fool,  and  on  occasions  had  been 
more  than  a  match  for  certain  New  York  lawyers  with 
national  reputations. 

It  is  rare,  in  this  world  of  trouble,  that  such  an  appar 
ently  ideal  and  happy  state  of  existence  is  without  a  can 
ker.  And  I  have  left  the  revelation  of  the  canker  to  the 
last.  Ripton  knew  it  was  there,  Camden  Street  knew  it, 
and  Mr.  Vane's  acquaintances  throughout  the  State ;  but 
nobody  ever  spoke  of  it.  Euphrasia  shed  over  it  the  only 
tears  she  had  known  since  Sarah  Austen  died,  and  some 
of  these  blotted  the  only  letters  she  wrote.  Hilary  Vane 
did  not  shed  tears,  but  his  friends  suspected  that  his  heart 
strings  were  torn,  and  pitied  him.  Hilary  Vane  fiercely 
resented  pity,  and  that  was  why  they  did  not  speak  of  it. 
This  trouble  of  his  was  the  common  point  on  which  he 
arid  Euphrasia  touched,  and  they  touched  only  to  quarrel. 
Let  us  out  with  it  —  Hilary  Vane  had  a  wild  son,  whose 
name  was  Austen. 

Euphrasia  knew  that  in  his  secret  soul  Mr.  Vane  attrib 
uted  this  wildness,  and  what  he  was  pleased  to  designate 
as  profligacy,  to  the  Austen  blood.  And  Euphrasia  re 
sented  it  bitterly.  Sarah  Austen  had  been  a  young,  elf 
ish  thing  when  he  married  her,  —  a  dryad,  the  elderly  and 
learned  Mrs.  Tredway  had  called  her.  Mr.  Vane  had 
understood  her  about  as  well  as  he  would  have  understood 
Mary,  Queen  of  Scots,  if  he  had  been  married  to  that  lady. 
Sarah  Austen  had  a  wild,  shy  beauty,  startled,  alert  eyes 
like  an  animal,  and  rebellious  black  hair  that  curled  about 


HILARY  VANE  SITS  FOR  HIS  PORTRAIT       5 

her  ears  and  gave  her  a  faunlike  appearance.  With  a 
pipe  and  the  costume  of  Rosalind  she  would  have  been 
perfect.  She  had  had  a  habit  of  running  off  for  the  day 
into  the  hills  with  her  son,  and  the  conventions  of  Ripton 
had  been  to  her  as  so  many  defunct  blue  laws.  During 
her  brief  married  life  there  had  been  periods  of  defiance 
from  her  lasting  a  week,  when  she  would  not  speak  to 
Hilary  or  look  at  him,  and  these  periods  would  be  followed 
by  violent  spells  of  weeping  in  Euphrasia's  arms,  when 
the  house  was  no  place  for  Hilary.  He  possessed  by  mat 
rimony  an  intricate  mechanism  of  which  his  really  admir 
able  brain  could  not  grasp  the  first  principles ;  he  felt  for 
her  a  real  if  unaccountable  affection,  but  when  she  died 
he  heaved  a  sigh  of  relief,  at  which  he  was  immediately 
horrified. 

Austen  he  understood  little  better,  but  his  affection  for 
the  child  may  be  likened  to  the  force  of  a  great  river  rush 
ing  through  a  narrow  gorge,  and  he  vied  with  Euphrasia 
in  spoiling  him.  Neither  knew  what  they  were  doing, 
and  the  spoiling  process  was  interspersed  with  occasional 
and  (to  Austen)  unmeaning  intervals  of  severe  discipline. 
The  boy  loved  the  streets  and  the  woods  and  his  fellow- 
beings  ;  his  punishments  were  a  series  of  afternoons  in  the 
house,  during  one  of  which  he  wrecked  the  bedroom  where 
he  was  confined,  and  was  soundly  whaled  with  an  old  slip 
per  that  broke  under  the  process.  Euphrasia  kept  the 
slipper,  and  once  showed  it  to  Hilary  during  a  quarrel 
they  had  when  the  boy  was  grown  up  and  gone  and  the 
house  was  silent,  and  Hilary  had  turned  away,  choking, 
and  left  the  room.  Such  was  his  cross. 

To  make  it  worse,  the  boy  had  loved  his  father.  Nay, 
still  loved  him.  As  a  little  fellow,  after  a  scolding  for 
some  wayward  prank,  he  would  throw  himself  into  Hilary's 
arms  and  cling  to  him,  and  never  knew  how  near  he  came 
to  unmanning  him.  As  Austen  grew  up,  they  saw  the 
world  in  different  colours  :  blue  to  Hilary  was  red  to 
Austen,  and  white,  black;  essentials  to  one  were  non- 
essentials  to  the  other;  boys  and  girls,  men  and  women, 
abhorred  by  one  were  boon  companions  to  the  other. 


6  MR.   CREWE'S  CAREER 

Austen  made  fun  of  the  minister,  and  was  compelled  to 
go  to  church  twice  on  Sundays  and  to  prayer-meeting  on 
Wednesdays.  Then  he  went  to  Camden  Street,  to  live 
with  his  grandparents  in  the  old  Vane  house  and  attend 
Camden  Wentworth  Academy.  His  letters,  such  as  they 
were,  were  inimitable  if  crude,  but  contained  not  the  kind 
of  humour  Hilary  Vane  knew.  Camden  Wentworth, 
principal  and  teachers,  was  painted  to  the  life;  and  the 
lad  could  hardly  wait  for  vacation  time  to  see  his  father, 
only  to  begin  quarrelling  with  him  again. 

I  pass  over  escapades  in  Ripton  that  shocked  one  half  of 
the  population  and  convulsed  the  other  half.  Austen 
went  to  the  college  which  his  father  had  attended,  —  a 
college  of  splendid  American  traditions,  —  and  his  career 
there  might  well  have  puzzled  a  father  of  far  greater  tol 
erance  and  catholicity.  Hilary  Vane  was  a  trustee,  and 
journeyed  more  than  once  to  talk  the  matter  over  with  the 
president,  who  had  been  his  classmate  there. 

"  I  love  that  boy,  Hilary,"  the  president  had  said  at 
length,  when  pressed  for  a  frank  opinion, —  "  there  isn't  a 
soul  in  the  place,  I  believe,  that  doesn't,  —  undergradu 
ates  and  faculty, — but  he  has  given  me  more  anxious 
thought  than  any  scholar  I  have  ever  had." 

"  Trouble,"  corrected  Mr.  Vane,  sententiously. 

"  Well,  yes,  trouble,"  answered  the  president,  smiling, 
"  but  upon  my  soul,  I  think  it  is  all  animal  spirits." 

"  A  euphemism  for  the  devil,"  said  Hilary,  grimly;  "  he 
is  the  animal  part  of  us,  I  have  been  brought  up  to  believe." 

The  president  was  a  wise  man,  and  took  another  tack. 

"He  has  a  really  remarkable  mind,  when  he  chooses  to 
use  it.  Every  once  in  a  while  he  takes  your  breath  away 
—  but  he  has  to  become  interested.  A  few  weeks  ago 
Hays  came  to  me  direct  from  his  lecture  room  to  tell 
me  about  a  discussion  of  Austen's  in  constitutional  law. 
Hays,  you  know,  is  not  easily  enthused,  but  he  declares 
your  son  has  as  fine  a  legal  brain  as  he  has  come  across  in 
his  experience.  But  since  then,  I  am  bound  to  admit," 
added  the  president,  sadly,  "  Austen  seems  not  to  have 
looked  at  a  lesson." 


HILARY  VANE   SITS   FOR   HIS   PORTRAIT        7 

"* Unstable  as  water,  thou  shalt  not  excel,'"  replied 
Hilary. 

"  He'll  sober  down,"  said  the  president,  stretching  his 
conviction  a  little,  uhe  has  two  great  handicaps:  he  learns 
too  easily,  and  he  is  too  popular."  The  president  looked 
out  of  his  study  window  across  the  common,  surrounded  by 
the  great  elms  which  had  been  planted  when  Indian  lads 
played  among  the  stumps  and  the  red  flag  of  England 
had  flown  from  the  tall  pine  staff.  The  green  was  cov 
ered  now  with  students  of  a  conquering  race,  skylark 
ing  to  and  fro  as  they  looked  on  at  a  desultory  baseball 
game.  "  I  verily  believe,"  said  the  president,  "  at  a  word 
from  your  son,  most  of  them  would  put  on  their  coats 
and  follow  him  on  any  mad  expedition  that  came  into  his 
mind." 

Hilary  Vane  groaned  more  than  once  in  the  train  back 
to  Ripton.  It  meant  nothing  to  him  to  be  the  father  of 
the  most  popular  man  in  college. 

The  "  mad  expedition  "  came  at  length  in  the  shape  of 
a  fight  with  the  townspeople,  in  which  Austen,  of  course, 
was  the  ringleader.  If  he  had  inherited  his  mother's 
eccentricities,  he  had  height  and  physique  from  the 
Vanes,  and  one  result  was  a  week  in  bed  for  the  son  of 
the  local  plumber  and  a  damage  suit  against  the  Honour 
able  Hilary.  Another  result  was  that  Austen  and  a  Tom 
Gay  lord  came  back  to  Riptonona  long  suspension,  which, 
rumour  said,  would  have  been  expulsion  if  Hilary  were 
not  a  trustee.  Tom  Gaylord  was  proud  of  suspension  in 
such  company.  More  of  him  later.  He  was  the  son  of 
old  Tom  Gaylord,  who  owned  more  lumber  than  any  man 
in  the  State,  and  whom  Hilary  Vane  believed  to  be  the 
receptacle  of  all  the  vices. 

Eventually  Austen  went  back  and  graduated  —  not 
summa  cum  laude,  honesty  compels  me  to  add.  Then 
came  the  inevitable  discussion,  and  to  please  his  father  he 
went  to  the  Harvard  Law  School  —  for  two  years.  At 
the  end  of  that  time,  instead  of  returning  to  Ripton,  a 
letter  had  come  from  him  with  the  postmark  of  a  Western 
State,  where  he  had  fled  with  a  classmate  who  owned  a 


8  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

ranch.  Evidently  the  worldly  consideration  to  be  derived 
from  conformity  counted  little  with  Austen  Vane.  Money 
was  a  medium  only  —  not  an  end.  He  was  in  the  saddle 
all  day,  with  nothing  but  the  horizon  to  limit  him;  he  loved 
his  father,  and  did  not  doubt  his  father's  love  for  him,  and 
he  loved  Euphrasia.  He  could  support  himself,  but  he 
must  see  life.  The  succeeding  years  brought  letters  and 
quaint,  useless  presents  to  both  the  occupants  of  the  lonely 
house, — Navajo  blankets  and  Indian  jewellery  and  basket- 
work,  —  and  Austen  little  knew  how  carefully  these  were 
packed  away  and  surreptitiously  gazed  at  from  time  to 
time.  But  to  Hilary  the  Western  career  was  a  dis 
grace,  and  such  meagre  reports  of  it  as  came  from  other 
sources  than  Austen  tended  only  to  confirm  him  in  this 
opinion. 

It  was  commonly  said  of  Mr.  Paul  Par dr iff  that  not  a 
newspaper  fell  from  the  press  that  he  did  not  have  a 
knowledge  of  its  contents.  Certain  it  was  that  Mr.  Pardriff 
made  a  specialty  of  many  kinds  of  knowledge,  political  and 
otherwise,  and  the  information  he  could  give  —  if  he 
chose  —  about  State  and  national  affairs  was  of  a  recondite 
and  cynical  nature  that  made  one  wish  to  forget  about  the 
American  flag.  Mr.  Pardriff  was  under  forty,  and  with 
these  gifts  many  innocent  citizens  of  Ripton  naturally 
wondered  why  the  columns  of  his  newspaper,  the  Ripton 
Record,  did  not  more  closely  resemble  the  spiciness  of  his 
talk  in  the  office  of  Gales'  Hotel.  The  columns  contained, 
instead,  such  efforts  as  essays  on  a  national  flower  and  the 
abnormal  size  of  the  hats  of  certain  great  men,  notably 
Andrew  Jackson ;  yes,  and  the  gold  standard  ;  and  in 
times  of  political  stress  they  were  devoted  to  a  somewhat 
fulsome  praise  of  regular  and  orthodox  Republican  candi~ 
dates,  —  and  praise  of  any  one  was  not  in  character  with 
the  editor.  Ill-natured  people  said  that  the  matter  in  his 
paper  might  possibly  be  accounted  for  by  the  gratitude  of 
the  candidates,  and  the  fact  that  Mr.  Pardriff  and  his  wife 
and  his  maid-servant  and  his  hired  man  travelled  on  pink 
mileage  books,  which  could  only  be  had  for  love  —  not 
money.  On  the  other  hand,  reputable  witnesses  had  had 


HILARY  VANE   SITS   FOR  HIS   PORTRAIT        9 

it  often  from  Mr.  Pardriff  that  he  was  a  reformer,  and  not  at 
all  in  sympathy  with  certain  practices  which  undoubtedly 
existed. 

Some  years  before — to  be  exact,  the  year  Austen  Vane 
left  the  law  school  —  Mr.  Pardriff  had  proposed  to  ex 
change  the  Ripton  Record  with  the  editor  of  the  Pepper 
County  Plainsman  in  a  far  Western  State.  The  exchange 
was  elf  ected,  and  Mr.  Pardriff  glanced  over  the  Plainsman 
regularly  once  a  week,  though  I  doubt  whether  the  Western 
editor  ever  read  the  Record  after  the  first  copy.  One  day 
in  June  Mr.  Pardriff  was  seated  in  his  sanctum  above 
Merrill's  drug  store  when  his  keen  green  eyes  fell  upon 
the  following :  — 

"  The  Plainsman  considers  it  safe  to  say  that  the 
sympathy  of  the  people  of  Pepper  County  at  large  is  with 
Mr.  Austen  Vane,  whose  personal  difficulty  with  Jim 
Blodgett  resulted  so  disastrously  for  Mr.  Blodgett.  The 
latter  gentleman  has  long  made  himself  obnoxious  to  local 
ranch  owners  by  his  persistent  disregard  of  property  lines 
and  property,  and  it  will  be  recalled  that  he  is  at  present  in 
hot  water  with  the  energetic  Secretary  of  the  Interior  for 
fencing  government  lands.  Vane,  who  was  recently  made 
manager  of  Ready  Money  Ranch,  is  one  of  the  most  popular 
young  men  in  the  county.  He  was  unwillingly  assisted  over 
the  State  line  by  his  friends.  Although  he  has  never  been 
a  citizen  of  the  State,  the  Plainsman  trusts  that  he  may 
soon  be  back  and  become  one  of  us.  At  last  report  Mr. 
Blodgett  was  resting  easily," 

This  article  obtained  circulation  in  Ripton,  although  it 
was  not  copied  into  the  Record  out  of  deference  to  the 
feelings  of  the  Honourable  Hilary  Vane.  In  addition  to 
the  personal  regard  Mr.  Pardriff  professed  to  have  for  the 
Honourable  Hilary,  it  may  be  well  to  remember  that  Austen's 
father  was,  among  other  things,  chairman  of  the  State 
Committee.  Mr.  Tredway  (largest  railroad  stockholder 
in  Ripton)  pursed  his  lips  that  were  already  pursed.  Tom 
Gaylord  roared  with  laughter.  Two  or  three  days  later 
the  Honourable  Hilary,  still  in  blissful  ignorance,  received  a 
letter  that  agitated  him  sorely. 


10  MR.   CREWE'S  CAREER 

,., "DEAR  FATHEE:  I  hope  you  don't  object  to  receiving  a 
little  visit  from  a  prodigal,  wayward  son.  To  tell  the 
truth  I  have  found  it  convenient  to  leave  the  Ready  Money 
Ranch  for  a  while  although  Bob  Tyner  is  good  enough  to 
say  I  may  have  the  place  when  I  come  back.  You  know 
1  often  think  of  you  and  Phrasie  back  in  Ripton,  and  I 
long  to  see  the  dear  old  town  again.  Expect  me  when 
you  S66  mo* 


"  Your  aff.  son, 

"  AUSTEJST." 


CHAPTER   II 

ON   THE  TREATMENT   OF  PRODIGALS 

WHILE  Euphrasia,  in  a  frenzy  of  anticipation,  garnished 
and  swept  the  room  which  held  for  her  so  many  memories 
of  Austen's  boyhood,  even  beating  the  carpet  with  her  own 
hands,  Hilary  Vane  went  about  his  business  with  no  ap 
parent  lack  of  diligence.  But  he  was  meditating.  He 
had  many  times  listened  to  the  Reverend  Mr.  Weightman 
read  the  parable  from  the  pulpit,  but  he  had  never  reflected 
how  it  would  be  to  be  the  father  of  a  real  prodigal.  What 
was  to  be  done  about  the  calf  ?  Was  there  to  be  a  calf,  or 
was  there  not  ?  To  tell  the  truth,  Hilary  wanted  a  calf, 
and  yet  to  have  one  (in  spite  of  Holy  Writ)  would  seem 
to  set  a  premium  on  disobedience  and  riotous  living. 

Again,  Austen  had  reached  thirty,  an  age  when  it  was 
not  likely  he  would  settle  down  arid  live  an  orderly  and 
godly  life  among  civilized  beings,  and  therefore  a  fatted 
calf  was  likely  to  be  the  first  of  many  follies  which  he 
(Hilary)  would  live  to  regret.  No,  he  would  deal  with 
justice.  How  he  dealt  will  be  seen  presently,  but  when  he 
finally  reached  this  conclusion,  the  clipping  from  the  Pep 
per  County  Plainsman  had  not  yet  come  before  his  eyes. 

It  is  worth  relating  how  the  clipping  did  come  before  his 
eyes,  for  no  one  in  Ripton  had  the  temerity  to  speak  of  it. 
Primarily,  it  was  because  Miss  Victoria  Flint  had  lost  a 
terrier,  and  secondarily,  because  she  was  a  person  of  strong 
likes  and  dislikes.  In  pursuit  of  the  terrier  she  drove 
madly  through  Leith,  which,  as  everybody  knows,  is  a  fa 
mous  colony  of  rich  summer  residents.  Victoria  probably 
stopped  at  every  house  in  Leith,  and  searched  them  with 
characteristic  vigour  and  lack  of  ceremony,  sometimes 
entering  by  the  side  door,  and  sometimes  by  the  front,  and 

11 


12  MR.  CREWE'S  CAREER 

caring  very  little  whether  the  owners  were  at  home  or 
^  Mr  Humphrey  Crewe  discovered  her  ma  box-stall 
at  Wedtobunf-as  his  place  was  called,- for  it  inade 
Httk  Se  ence  to  Victoria  that  Mr.  Crewe  was  a  bachelor 

±pe"o  know  -  went  to  press  the  next  day  Victoria 
would  not  trust  to  the  telephone,  whereupon  Mr.  Ciewe 

o^S  SSSfe  -id  she,  as  she  climbed 
into  her  runabout  with  the  father  and  grandfather  of  the 
ataentee  Mr.  Crewe  laughed  as  she  drove  away.  He 

m  Arriving  in  the  hot  main  street  of  Ripton  her  sharp 


what  tickled  her. 
of  her  linen 


that  name  wiio  imu.  gu»      -  -«^< — - 
1  her      She  thrust  the  clipping  in  the  pocket 


ON   THE   TREATMENT   OF  PRODIGALS         13 

Isaac  D.  Worthington  of  Brampton,  and  he  was  still  "Gus" 
to  his  friends.  Mr.  Flint's  had  been  the  brain  which  had 
largely  conceived  and  executed  the  consolidation  of  prin 
cipalities  of  which  the  Imperial  Railroad  was  the  result ; 
and,  as  surely  as  tough  metal  prevails,  Mr.  Flint,  after 
many  other  trials  and  errors  of  weaker  stuff,  had  been 
elected  to  the  place  for  which  he  was  so  supremely  fitted. 
We  are  so  used  in  America  to  these  tremendous  rises  that 
a  paragraph  will  suffice  to  place  Mr.  Flint  in  his  Aladdin's 
palace.  To  do  him  justice,  he  cared  not  a  fig  for  the 
palace,  and  he  would  have  been  content  with  the  farm 
house  under  the  hill  where  his  gardener  lived.  You  could 
not  fool  Mr.  Flint  on  a  horse  or  a  farm,  and  he  knew  to  a 
dot  what  a  railroad  was  worth  by  travelling  over  it.  Like 
his  governor-general  and  dependent,  Mr.  Hilary  Vane,  he 
had  married  a  wife  who  had  upset  all  his  calculations. 
The  lady  discovered  Mr.  Flint's  balance  in  the  bank,  and 
had  proceeded  to  use  it  for  her  own  glorification,  and  the 
irony  of  it  all  was  that  he  could  defend  it  from  everybody 
else.  Mrs.  Flint  spent,  and  Mr.  Flint  paid  the  bills ;  for 
the  first  ten  years  protestingly,  and  after  that  he  gave  it 
up  and  let  her  go  her  own  gait. 

She  had  come  from  the  town  of  Sharon,  in  another 
State,  through  which  Mr.  Flint's  railroad  also  ran,  and  she 
had  been  known  as  the  Rose  of  that  place.  She  had  begun 
to  rise  immediately,  with  the  kite-like  adaptability  of  the 
American  woman  for  high  altitudes,  and  the  leaden  weight 
of  the  husband  at  the  end  of  the  tail  was  as  nothing  to  her. 
She  had  begun  it  all  by  the  study  of  people  in  hotels  while 
Mr.  Flint  was  closeted  with  officials  and  directors.  By 
dint  of  minute  observation  and  reasoning  powers  and  un 
flagging  determination  she  passed  rapidly  through  several 
strata,  and  had  made  a  country  place  out  of  her  husband's 
farm  in  Tunbridge,  so  happily  and  conveniently  situated 
near  Leith,  In  winter  they  lived  on  Fifth  Avenue. 

One  daughter  alone  had  halted,  for  a  minute  period, 
this  progress,  and  this  daughter  was  Victoria  —  named  by 
her  mother.  Victoria  was  now  twenty-one,  and  was  not 
only  of  another  generation,  but  might  almost  have  been 


14  MR.   CREWE'S  CAREER 

judged  of  another  race  than  her  parents.  The  things  for 
which  her  mother  had  striven  she  took  for  granted,  and 
thought  of  them  not  at  all,  and  she  had  by  nature  that 
simplicity  and  astonishing  frankness  of  manner  and  speech 
which  was  once  believed  to  be  an  exclusive  privilege  of 
duchesses. 

To  return  to  Fairview.  Victoria,  after  sharing  her  five 
o'clock  luncheon  with  her  dogs,  went  to  seek  her  father, 
for  the  purpose  (if  it  must  be  told)  of  asking  him  for  a 
cheque.  Mr.  Flint  was  at  Fairview  on  the  average  of 
two  days  out  of  the  week  during  the  summer,  and  then 
he  was  nearly  always  closeted  with  a  secretary  and  two 
stenographers  and  a  long-distance  telephone  in  two  plain 
little  rooms  at  the  back  of  the  house.  And  Mr.  Hilary 
Vane  was  often  in  consultation  with  him,  as  he  was 
on  the  present  occasion  when  Victoria  flung  open  the 
door.  At  sight  of  Mr.  Vane  she  halted  suddenly  on  the 
threshold,  and  a  gleam  of  mischief  came  into  her  eye  as 
she  thrust  her  hand  into  her  coat  pocket.  The  two 
regarded  her  with  the  detached  air  of  men  whose  thread 
of  thought  has  been  broken. 

"  Well,  Victoria,"  said  her  father,  kindly  if  resignedly, 
"  what  is  it  now  ?  " 

"  Money,"  replied  Victoria,  promptly;  "  I  went  to  Avalon 
this  morning  and  bought  that  horse  you  said  I  might  have." 

"  What  horse  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Flint,  vaguely.  "  But  never 
mind.  Tell  Mr.  Freeman  to  make  out  the  cheque." 

Mr.  Vane  glanced  at  Mr.  Flint,  and  his  eyes  twinkled. 
Victoria,  who  had  long  ago  discovered  the  secret  of  the 
Honey  Dew,  knew  that  he  was  rolling  it  under  his  tongue 
and  thinking  her  father  a  fool  for  his  indulgence. 

"  How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Vane?"  she  said;  "  Austen's  com 
ing  home,  isn't  he  ?  "  She  had  got  this  by  feminine  arts 
out  of  Mr.  Paul  Pardriff,  to  whom  she  had  not  confided 
the  fact  of  her  possession  of  the  clipping. 

The  Honourable  Hilary  gave  a  grunt,  as  he  always  did 
when  he  was  surprised  and  displeased,  as  though  some 
one  had  prodded  him  with  a  stick  in  a  sensitive  spot. 

"  Your  son  ?     Why,  Vane,  you   never  told  me  that," 


ON  THE  TREATMENT  OF   PRODIGALS         15 

said  Mr.  Flint.  "  I  didn't  know  that  you  knew  him, 
Victoria." 

"  I  don't,"  answered  Victoria,  "  but  I'd  like  to.  What 
did  he  do  to  Mr.  Blodgett  ?  "  she  demanded  of  Hilary. 

"Mr.  Blodgett!  "  exclaimed  that  gentleman.  "I  never 
heard  of  him.  What's  happened  to  him  ?  " 

"  He  will  probably  recover,"  she  assured  him. 

The  Honourable  Hilary,  trying  in  vain  to  suppress  his 
agitation,  rose  to  his  feet. 

" 1  don't  know  what  you're  talking  about,  Victoria,"  he 
said,  but  his  glance  was  fixed  on  the  clipping  in  her  hand. 

"  Haven't  you  seen  it  ?  "  she  asked,  giving  it  to  him. 

He  read  it  in  silence,  groaned,  and  handed  it  to  Mr. 
Flint,  who  had  been  drumming  on  the  table  and  glancing 
at  Victoria  with  vague  disapproval.  Mr.  Flint  read  it 
and  gave  it  back  to  the  Honourable  Hilary,  who  groaned 
again  and  looked  out  of  the  window. 

"Why  do  you  feel  badly  about  it?"  asked  Victoria. 
"I'd  be  proud  of  him,  if  I  were  you." 

"  Proud  of  him  !  "  echoed  Mr.  Vane,  grimly.  "  Proud 
of  him !  " 

"Victoria,  what  do  you  mean?  "  said  Mr.  Flint. 

"Why  not?"  said  Victoria.  "He's  done  nothing  to 
make  you  ashamed.  According  to  that  clipping,  he's 
punished  a  man  who  richly  deserved  to  be  punished,  and 
he  has  the  sympathy  of  an  entire  county." 

Hilary  Vane  was  riot  a  man  to  discuss  his  domestic 
affliction  with  anybody,  so  he  merely  grunted  and  gazed 
persistently  out  of  the  window,  and  was  not  aware  of  the 
fact  that  Victoria  made  a  little  face  at  him  as  she  left  the 
room.  The  young  are  not  always  impartial  judges  of  the 
old,  and  Victoria  had  never  forgiven  him  for  carrying  to 
her  father  the  news  of  an  escapade  of  hers  in  Ripton. 

As  he  drove  through  the  silent  forest  roads  on  his  way 
homeward  that  afternoon,  the  Honourable  Hilary  revolved 
the  new  and  intensely  disagreeable  fact  in  his  mind  as  to 
how  he  should  treat  a  prodigal  who  had  attempted  man 
slaughter  and  was  a  fugitive  from  justice.  In  the  mean 
time  a  tall  and  spare  young  man  of  a  red-bronze  colour 


16  MR.   CREWE'S  CAREER 

alighted  from  the  five  o'clock  express  at  Ripton  and 
grinned  delightedly  at  the  gentlemen  who  made  the  sta 
tion  their  headquarters  about  train  time.  They  were 
privately  disappointed  that  the  gray  felt  hat,  although 
broad-brimmed,  was  not  a  sombrero,  and  the  respectable, 
loose-fitting  suit  of  clothes  was  not  of  buckskin  with 
tassels  on  the  trousers  ;  and  likewise  that  he  came  without 
the  cartridge-belt  and  holster  which  they  had  pictured  in 
anticipatory  sessions  on  the  baggage-trucks.  There  could 
be  110  doubt  of  the  warmth  of  their  greeting  as  they  sidled 
up  and  seized  a  hand  somewhat  larger  than  theirs,  but  the 
welcome  had  in  it  an  ingredient  of  awe  that  puzzled  the 
newcomer,  who  did  not  hesitate  to  inquire :  — 

"  What's  the  matter,  Ed  ?  Why  so  ceremonious, 
Perley?" 

But  his  eagerness  did  not  permit  him  to  wait  for  ex 
planations.  Grasping  his  bag,  the  only  baggage  he 
possessed,  he  started  off  at  a  swinging  stride  for  Hanover 
Street,  pausing  only  to  shake  the  hands  of  the  few  who 
recognized  him,  unconscious  of  the  wild-fire  at  his  back. 
Hanover  Street  was  empty  that  drowsy  summer  afternoon, 
and  he  stopped  under  the  well-remembered  maples  before 
the  house  and  gazed  at  it  long  and  tenderly;  even  at  the 
windows  of  that  room  —  open  now  for  the  first  time  in 
years  —  where  he  had  served  so  many  sentences  of  im 
prisonment.  Then  he  went  cautiously  around  by  the  side 
and  looked  in  at  the  kitchen  door.  To  other  eyes  than  his 
Euphrasia  might  not  have  seemed  a  safe  person  to  embrace, 
but  in  a  moment  he  had  her  locked  in  his  arms  and  weep 
ing.  She  knew  nothing  as  yet  of  Mr.  Blodgett's  misfor 
tunes,  but  if  Austen  Vane  had  depopulated  a  county  it 
would  have  made  no  difference  in  her  affection. 

"  My,  but  you're  a  man,"  exclaimed  Euphrasia,  backing 
away  at  last  and  staring  at  him  with  the  only  complete 
approval  she  had  ever  accorded  to  any  human  being  save 
one. 

"  What  did  you  expect,  Phrasie  ?  " 

"  Come,  and  I'll  show  you  your  room,"  she  said,  in  a 
flutter  she  could  not  hide;  "  it's  got  all  the  same  pictures 


ON  THE  TREATMENT  OF  PRODIGALS        17 

in,  your  mother's  pictures,  and  the  chair  you  broke  that 
time  when  Hilary  locked  you  in.  It's  mended." 

"  Hold  on,  Phrasie,"  said  Austen,  seizing  her  by  the 
apron-strings,  "  how  about  the  Judge  ?  "  It  was  by  this 
title  he  usually  designated  his  father. 

"  What  about  him  ?  "  demanded  Euphrasia,  sharply. 

"Well,  it's  his  house,  for  one  thing,"  answered  Austen, 
"and  he  may  prefer  to  have  that  room  —  empty." 

"  Empty  !  Turn  you  out  ?  I'd  like  to  see  him,"  cried 
Euphrasia.  "  It  wouldn't  take  me  long  to  leave  him 
high  and  dry." 

She  paused  at  the  sound  of  wheels,  and  there  was  the 
Honourable  Hilary,  across  the  garden  patch,  in  the  act  of 
slipping  out  of  his  buggy  at  the  stable  door.  In  the 
absence  of  Luke,  the  hired  man,  the  chief  counsel  for  the 
railroad  was  wont  to  put  up  the  horse  himself,  and  he 
already  had  the  reins  festooned  from  the  bit  rings  when 
he  felt  a  heavy  hand  on  his  shoulder  and  heard  a  voice 
say:  — 

"  How  are  you,  Judge  ?  " 

If  the  truth  be  told,  that  voice  and  that  touch  threw 
the  Honourable  Hilary's  heart  out  of  beat.  Many  days 
he  had  been  schooling  himself  for  this  occasion  :  this  very 
afternoon  he  had  determined  his  course  of  action,  which 
emphatically  did  not  include  a  fatted  calf.  And  now 
surged  up  a  dryad-like  memory  which  had  troubled 
him  many  a  wakeful  night,  of  startled,  appealing  eyes  that 
sought  his  in  vain,  and  of  the  son  she  had  left  him  fling 
ing  himself  into  his  arms  in  the  face  of  chastisement. 
For  the  moment  Hilary  Vane,  under  this  traitorous  in 
fluence,  was  unable  to  speak.  But  he  let  the  hand  rest 
on  his  shoulder,  and  at  length  was  able  to  pronounce,  in  a 
shamefully  shaky  voice,  the  name  of  his  son.  Whereupon 
Austen  seized  him  by  the  other  shoulder  and  turned  him 
round  and  looked  into  his  face. 

"  The  same  old  Judge,"  he  said. 

But  Hilary  was  startled,  even  as  Euphrasia  had  been. 
Was  this  strange,  bronzed,  quietly  humorous  young  man 
his  son  ?  Hilary  even  had  to  raise  his  eyes  a  little ;  he 


18  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

had  forgotten  how  tall  Austen  was.  Strange  emotions, 
unbidden  and  unwelcome,  ran  riot  in  his  breast  ;  and 
Hilary  Vane,  who  made  no  slips  before  legislative  commit 
tees  or  supreme  courts,  actually  found  himself  saying  :  — 

"  Euphrasia's  got  your  room  ready." 

"  It's  good  of  you  to  take  me  in,  Judge,"  said  Austen, 
patting  his  shoulder.  And  then  he  began,  quite  naturally 
to  unbuckle  the  breechings  and  loose  the  traces,  which  he 
did  with  such  deftness  and  celerity  that  he  had  the  horse 
unharnessed  and  in  the  stall  in  a  twinkling,  and  had 
hauled  the  buggy  through  the  stable  door,  the  Honourable 
Hilary  watching  him  the  while.  He  was  troubled,  but  for 
the  life  of  him  could  find  no  adequate  words,  who  usually 
had  the  dictionary  at  his  disposal. 

"  Didn't  write  me  why  you  came  home,"  said  the 
Honourable  Hilary,  as  his  son  washed  his  hands  at  the 
spigot. 

"  Didn't  I  ?  Well,  the  truth  was  I  wanted  to  see  you 
again,  Judge." 

His  father  grunted,  not  with  absolute  displeasure,  but 
suspiciously. 

"  How  about  Blodgett?  "  he  asked. 

"Blodgett!  Have  you  heard  about  that?  Who  told 
you?" 

"Never  mind.  You  didn't.  Nothing  in  your  letter 
about  it." 

"  It  wasn't  worth  mentioning,"  replied  Austen.  "  T}oier 
and  the  boys  liked  it  pretty  well,  but  I  didn't  think  you'd 
be  interested.  It  was  a  local  affair." 

"  Not  interested  !  Not  worth  mentioning  !  "  exclaimed 
the  Honourable  Hilary,  outraged  to  discover  that  his  son 
was  modestly  deprecating  an  achievement  instead  of  de 
fending  a  crime.  "  Godfrey !  murder  ain't  worth  mention 
ing,  I  presume." 

"Not  when  it  isn't  successful,"  said  Austen,  "If 
Blodgett  had  succeeded,  I  guess  you'd  have  heard  of  it 
before  you  did." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  this  Blodgett  tried  to  kill  you  ?  " 
demanded  the  Honourable  Hilary. 


ON   THE  TREATMENT   OF   PRODIGALS         19 

"  Yes,"  said  his  son,  "  and  I've  never  understood  why 
he  didn't.  He's  a  good  deal  better  shot  than  I  am." 

The  Honourable  Hilary  grunted,  and  sat  down  on  a 
bucket  and  carefully  prepared  a  piece  of  Honey  Dew.  He 
was  surprised  and  agitated. 

"  Then  why  are  you  a  fugitive  from  justice  if  you  were 
acting  in  self-defence  ?  "  he  inquired. 

"  Well,  you  see  there  were  no  witnesses,  except  a  Mexi 
can  of  Blodgett's,  and  Blodgett  runs  the  Pepper  County 
machine  for  the  railroad  out  there.  I'd  been  wanting  to 
come  East  and  have  a  look  at  you  for  some  time,  and  I 
thought  I  might  as  well  come  now." 

"  How  did  this  —  this  affair  start  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Vane. 

"  Blodgett  was  driving  in  some  of  Tyner's  calves,  and  I 
caught  him.  I  told  him  what  I  thought  of  him,  and  he 
shot  at  me  through  his  pocket.  That  was  all." 

"  All !     You  shot  him,  didn't  you?  " 

"  I  was  lucky  enough  to  hit  him  first,"  said  Austen. 

Extraordinary  as  it  may  seem,  the  Honourable  Hilary 
experienced  a  sense  of  pride. 

"  Where  did  you  hit  him  ?  "  he  asked. 

It  was  Euphrasia  who  took  matters  in  her  own  hands 
and  killed  the  fatted  calf,  and  the  meal  to  which  they 
presently  sat  down  was  very  different  from  the  frugal 
suppers  Mr.  Vane  usually  had.  But  he  made  no  comment. 
It  is  perhaps  not  too  much  to  say  that  he  would  have  been 
distinctly  disappointed  had  it  been  otherwise.  There  was 
Austen's  favourite  pie,  and  Austen's  favourite  cake,  all  in 
herited  from  the  Austens,  who  had  thought  more  of  the 
fleshpots  than  people  should.  And  the  prodigal  did  full 
justice  to  the  occasion. 


CHAPTER   III 

CONCERNING   THE  PRACTICE   OF   LAW 

So  instinctively  do  we  hark  back  to  the  primeval  man 
that  there  was  a  tendency  to  lionize  the  prodigal  in  Rip- 
ton,  which  proves  the  finished  civilization  of  the  East 
not  to  be  so  far  removed  from  that  land  of  outlaws, 
Pepper  County.  Mr.  Paul  Pardriff,  who  had  a  guilty 
conscience  about  the  clipping,  and  vividly  bearing  in  mind 
Mr.  Blodgett's  mishap,  alone  avoided  young  Mr.  Vane; 
and  escaped  through  the  type-setting  room  and  down  an 
outside  stairway  in  the  rear  when  that  gentleman  called. 
It  gave  an  ironical  turn  to  the  incident  that  Mr.  Pardriff 
was  at  the  moment  engaged  in  a  "  Welcome  Home  "  para 
graph  meant  to  be  propitiatory. 

Austen  cared  very  little  for  lionizing.  He  spent  most 
of  his  time  with  young  Torn  Gaylord,  now  his  father's 
right-hand  man  in  a  tremendous  lumber  business.  And 
Tom,  albeit  he  had  become  so  important,  habitually  fell 
once  more  under  the  domination  of  the  hero  of  his  youth 
ful  days.  Together  these  two  visited  haunts  of  their  boy 
hood,  camping  and  fishing  and  scaling  mountains,  Tom 
with  an  eye  to  lumbering  prospects  the  while. 

After  a  matter  of  two  or  three  months  had  passed  away 
in  this  pleasant  though  unprofitable  manner,  the  Honourable 
Hilary  requested  the  presence  of  his  son  one  morning  at 
his  office.  This  office  was  in  what  had  once  been  a  large 
residence,  and  from  its  ample  windows  you  could  look 
out  through  the  elms  on  to  the  square.  Old-fashioned 
bookcases  lined  with  musty  books  filled  the  walls,  except 
where  a  steel  engraving  of  a  legal  light  or  a  railroad 
map  of  the  State  was  hung,  and  the  Honourable  Hilary 
sat  in  a  Windsor  chair  at  a  mahogany  table  in  the  middle. 

20 


CONCERNING   THE   PRACTICE   OF   LAW        21 

The  anteroom  next  door,  where  the  clerks  sat,  was  also  a 
waiting-room  for  various  individuals  from  the  different 
parts  of  the  State  who  continually  sought  the  counsel's 
presence. 

''Haven't  seen  much  of  you  since  you've  be'n  home, 
Austen,"  his  father  remarked  as  an  opening. 

uYour  —  legal  business  compels  you  to  travel  a  great 
deal,"  answered  Austen,  turning  from  the  window  and 
smiling. 

"Somewhat,"  said  the  Honourable  Hilary,  on  whom 
this  pleasantry  was  not  lost.  "  You've  be'n  travelling  on 
the  lumber  business,  I  take  it." 

"  I  know  more  about  it  than  I  did,"  his  son  admitted. 
The  Honourable  Hilary  grunted. 
"  Caught  a  good  many  fish,  haven't  you  ?  " 
Austen  crossed  the  room  and  sat  on  the  edge  of  the  desk 
beside  his  father's  chair. 

"  See  here,  Judge,"  he  said,  "  what  are  you  driving  at  ? 
Out  with  it." 

"  When  are  you  —  going  back  West  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Vane. 
Austen  did  not  answer  at  once,  but  looked  down  into 
his  father's  inscrutable  face. 

"  Do  you  want  to  get  rid  of  me  ?  "  he  said. 
"  Sowed  enough  wild  oats,  haven't  you  ?  "  inquired  the 
father. 

"  I've  sowed  a  good  many,"  Austen  admitted. 
"  Why  not  settle  down  ?  " 

"I  haven't  yet  met  the  lady,  Judge,"  replied  his  son. 
"  Couldn't  support  her  if  you  had,"  said  Mr.  Vane. 
"  Then  it's  fortunate,"  said  Austen,  resolved  not  to  be 
the  necessary  second  in  a  quarrel.     He  knew  his  father, 
and  perceived  that  these  preliminary  and  caustic  openings 
of  his  were  really  olive  branches. 

"  Sometimes  I  think  you  might  as  well  be  in  that  out 
landish  country,  for  all  I  see  of  you,"  said  the  Honourable 
Hilary. 

"  You  ought  to  retire  from  business  and  try  fishing," 
his  son  suggested. 

The  Honourable  Hilary  sometimes  smiled. 


22  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

"  You've  got  a  good  brain,  Austen,  and  what's  the  use  of 
wasting  it  chasing  cattle  and  practising  with  a  pistol  on 
your  fellow-beings  ?  You  won't  have  much  trouble  in 
getting  admitted  to  the  bar.  Come  into  the  office." 

Austen  did  not  answer  at  once.  He  suspected  that  it 
had  cost  his  father  nob  a  little  to  make  these  advances. 

"Do  you  believe  you  and  I  could  get  along,  Judge? 
How  long  do  you  think  it  would  last  ?  " 

"  I've  considered  that  some,"  answered  the  Honourable 
Hilary,  "but  I  won't  last  a  great  while  longer  myself." 

"  You're  as  sound  as  a  bronco,"  declared  Austen,  patting 
him. 

"  I  never  was  what  you  might  call  dissipated,"  agreed 
Mr.  Vane,  "but  men  don't  go  on  forever.  I've  worked 
hard  all  my  life,  and  got  where  I  am,  and  I've  always 
thought  I'd  like  to  hand  it  on  to  you.  It's  a  position  of 
honour  and  trust,  Austen,  and  one  of  which  any  lawyer 
might  be  proud." 

"  My  ambition  hasn't  run  in  exactly  that  channel,"  said 
his  son. 

"  Didn't  know  as  you  had  any  precise  ambition,"  re 
sponded  the  Honourable  Hilary,  "but  I  never  heard  of  a 
man  refusing  to  be  chief  counsel  for  a  great  railroad.  I 
don't  say  you  can  be,  mind,  but  I  say  with  work  and  brains 
it's  as  easy  for  the  son  of  Hilary  Vane  as  for  anybody  else." 

"  I  don't  know  much  about  the  duties  of  such  a  posi 
tion,"  said  Austen,  laughing,  "but  at  all  events  I  shall 
have  time  to  make  up  my  mind  how  to  answer  Mr.  Flint 
when  he  conies  to  me  with  the  proposal.  To  speak 
frankly,  Judge,  I  hadn't  thought  of  spending  the  whole  of 
what  might  otherwise  prove  a  brilliant  life  in  Ripton." 

The  Honourable  Hilary  smiled  again,  and  then  he 
grunted. 

"I  tell  you  what  I'll  do,"  he  said;  "you  come  in  with 
me  and  agree  to  stay  five  years.  If  you've  done  well  for 
yourself,  and  want  to  go  to  New  York  or  some  large 
place  at  the  end  of  that  time,  I  won't  hinder  you. 
But  I  feel  it  my  duty  to  say,  if  you  don't  accept  my  offer, 
no  son  of  mine  shall  inherit  what  I've  laid  up  by  hard 


CONCERNING   THE   PRACTICE   OF   LAW        23 

labour.  It's  against  American  doctrine,  and  it's  against 
my  principles.  You  can  go  back  to  Pepper  County  and 
get  put  in  jail,  but  you  can't  say  I  haven't  warned  you 
fairly." 

"  You  ought  to  leave  your  fortune  to  the  railroad, 
Judge,"  said  Austen.  "  Generations  to  come  would  bless 
your  name  if  you  put  up  a  new  station  in  Ripton  and  built 
bridges  over  Bunker  Hill  grade  crossing  and  the  other  one 
on  Heath  Street  where  Nic  Adams  was  killed  last  month. 
I  shouldn't  begrudge  a  cent  of  the  money." 

"  I  suppose  I  was  a  fool  to  talk  to  you,"  said  the  Hon 
ourable  Hilary,  getting  up. 

But  his  son  pushed  him  down  again  into  the  Windsor 
chair. 

"  Hold  on,  Judge,"  he  said,  "  that  was  just  my  way  of 
saying  if  I  accepted  your  offer,  it  wouldn't  be  because  I 
yearned  after  the  money.  Thinking  of  it  has  never  kept 
me  awake  nights.  Now  if  you'll  allow  me  to  take  a  few 
days  once  in  a  while  to  let  off  steam,  I'll  make  a  counter 
proposal,  in  the  nature  of  a  compromise." 

"  What's  that  ?  "  the  Honourable  Hilary  demanded  sus 
piciously. 

"Provided  I  get  admitted  to  the  bar  I  will  take  a 
room  in  another  part  of  this  building  and  pick  up  what 
crumbs  of  practice  I  can  by  myself.  Of  course,  sir,  I 
realize  that  these,  if  they  come  at  all,  will  be  owing  to  the 
lustre  of  your  name.  But  I  should,  before  I  become 
Mr.  Flint's  right-hand  man,  like  to  learn  to  walk  with  my 
own  legs." 

The  speech  pleased  the  Honourable  Hilary,  and  he  put 
out  his  hand. 

"  It's  a  bargain,  Austen,"  he  said. 

"  I  don't  mind  telling  you  now,  Judge,  that  when  I  left 
the  West  I  left  it  for  good,  provided  you  and  I  could  live 
within  a  decent  proximity.  And  I  ought  to  add  that  I 
always  intended  going  into  the  law  after  I'd  had  a  fling. 
It  isn't  fair  to  leave  you  with  the  impression  that  this  is 
a  sudden  determination.  Prodigals  don't  become  good  as 
quick  as  all  that." 


24  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

Ripton  caught  its  breath  a  second  time  the  day  Austen 
hired  a  law  office,  nor  did  the  surprise  wholly  cease  when, 
in  one  season,  he  was  admitted  to  the  bar,  for  the  pro 
ceeding  was  not  in  keeping  with  the  habits  and  customs  of 
prodigals.  Needless  to  say,  the  practice  did  not  immedi 
ately  begin  to  pour  in,  but  the  little  office  rarely  lacked  a 
visitor,  and  sometimes  had  as  many  as  five  or  six.  There 
was  an  irresistible  attraction  about  that  room,  and  ap 
parently  very  little  law  read  there,  though  sometimes  its 
occupant  arose  and  pushed  the  visitors  into  the  hall  and 
locked  the  door,  and  opened  the  window  at  the  top  to  let 
the  smoke  out.  Many  of  the  Honourable  Hilary's  callers 
preferred  the  little  room  in  the  far  corridor  to  the  great 
man's  own  office. 

These  visitors  of  the  elder  Mr.  Vane's,  as  has  been  be 
fore  hinted,  were  not  all  clients.  Without  burdening  the 
reader  too  early  with  a  treatise  on  the  fabric  of  a  system, 
suffice  it  to  say  that  something  was  continually  going  on 
that  was  not  law;  and  gentlemen  came  and  went  —  fat 
and  thin,  sharp-eyed  and  red-faced — who  were  neither 
clients  nor  lawyers.  These  were  really  secretive  gentle 
men,  though  most  of  them  had  a  hail-fellow-well-met 
manner  and  a  hearty  greeting,  but  when  they  talked  to 
the  Honourable  Hilary  it  was  with  doors  shut,  and  even 
then  they  sat  very  close  to  his  ear.  Many  of  them  pre 
ferred  now  to  wait  in  Austen's  office  instead  of  the  ante 
room,  and  some  of  them  were  not  so  cautious  with  the  son 
of  Hilary  Vane  that  they  did  not  let  drop  certain  observa 
tions  to  set  him  thinking.  He  had  a  fanciful  if  somewhat 
facetious  way  of  calling  them  by  feudal  titles  which  made 
them  grin. 

"  How  is  the  Duke  of  Putnam  this  morning  ?  "  he  would 
ask  of  the  gentleman  of  whom  the  Ripton  Record  would 
frequently  make  the  following  announcement:  "Among 
the  prominent  residents  of  Putnam  County  in  town  this 
week  was  the  Honourable  Brush  Bascom." 

The  Honourable  Brush  and  many  of  his  associates, 
barons  and  earls,  albeit  the  shrewdest  of  men,  did  not  know 
exactly  how  to  take  the  son  of  Hilary  Vane.  This  was 


CONCERNING   THE   PRACTICE   OF   LAW        25 

true  also  of  the  Honourable  Hilary  himself,  who  did  not 
wholly  appreciate  the  humour  in  Austen's  parallel  of  the 
feudal  system.  Although  Austen  had  set  up  for  himself, 
there  were  many  ways  —  not  legal  —  in  which  the  son 
might  have  been  helpful  to  the  father,  but  the  Honourable 
Hilary  hesitated,  for  some  unformulated  reason,  to  make 
use  of  him;  and  the  consequence  was  that  Mr.  Hamilton 
Tooting  and  other  young  men  of  a  hustling  nature  in  the 
Honourable  Hilary's  office  found  that  Austen's  advent  did 
not  tend  greatly  to  lighten  a  certain  class  of  their  labours. 
In  fact,  father  and  son  were  not  much  nearer  in  spirit 
than  when  one  had  been  in  Pepper  County  and  the  other 
in  Ripton.  Caution  and  an  instinct  which  senses  obsta 
cles  are  characteristics  of  gentlemen  in  Mr.  Vane's 
business. 

So  two  years  passed,  —  years  liberally  interspersed  with 
expeditions  into  the  mountains  and  elsewhere,  and  nights 
spent  in  the  company  of  Tom  Gaylord  and  others.  Dur 
ing  this  period  Austen  was  more  than  once  assailed 
by  the  temptation  to  return  to  the  free  life  of  Pepper 
County,  Mr.  Blodgett  having  completely  recovered  now, 
and  only  desiring  vengeance  of  a  corporal  nature.  But  a 
bargain  was  a  bargain,  and  Austen  Vane  stuck  to  his  end 
of  it,  although  he  had  now  begun  to  realize  many  aspects 
of  a  situation  which  he  had  not  before  suspected.  He  had 
long  foreseen,  however,  that  the  time  was  coming  when  a 
serious  disagreement  with  his  father  was  inevitable.  In 
addition  to  the  difference  in  temperament,  Hilary  Vane 
belonged  to  one  generation  and  Austen  to  another. 

It  happened,  as  do  so  many  incidents  which  tend  to 
shape  a  life,  by  a  seeming  chance.  It  was  a  June  even 
ing;  and  there  had  been  a  church  sociable  and  basket 
picnic  during  the  day  in  a  grove  in  the  town  of  Mercer, 
some  ten  miles  south  of  Ripton.  The  grove  was  bounded 
on  one  side  by  the  railroad  track,  and  merged  into  a  thick 
clump  of  second  growth  and  alders  where  there  was  a 
diagonal  grade  crossing.  The  picnic  was  over  and  the 
people  preparing  to  go  home  when  they  were  startled  by 
a  crash,  followed  by  the  screaming  of  brakes  as  a  big 


26  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

engine  flew  past  the  grove  and  brought  a  heavy  train  to 
a  halt  some  distance  down  the  grade.  The  women  shrieked 
and  dropped  the  dishes  they  were  washing,  and  the  men 
left  their  horses  standing  and  ran  to  the  crossing  and 
then  stood  for  the  moment  helpless,  in  horror  at  the  scene 
which  met  their  eyes.  The  wagon  of  one  of  their  own 
congregation  was  in  splinters,  a  man  (a  farmer  of  the 
neighbourhood)  lying  among  the  alders  with  what  seemed 
a  mortal  injury.  Amid  the  lamentations  and  cries  for 
some  one  to  go  to  Mercer  Village  for  the  doctor  a  young 
man  drove  up  rapidly  and  sprang  out  of  a  buggy,  trust 
ing  to  some  one  to  catch  his  horse,  pushed  through  the 
ring  of  people,  and  bent  over  the  wounded  farmer.  In  an 
instant  he  had  whipped  out  a  knife,  cut  a  stick  from  one 
of  the  alders,  knotted  his  handkerchief  around  the  man's 
leg,  ran  the  stick  through  the  knot,  and  twisted  the  hand 
kerchief  until  the  blood  ceased  to  flow.  They  watched 
him,  paralyzed,  as  the  helpless  in  this  world  watch  the 
capable,  and  before  he  had  finished  his  task  the  train  crew 
and  some  passengers  began  to  arrive. 

"  Have  you  a  doctor  aboard,  Charley  ?  "  the  young  man 
asked. 

"  No,"  answered  the  conductor,  who  had  been  addressed ; 
"  my  God,  not  one,  Austen." 

"  Back  up  your  train,"  said  Austen,  "  and  stop  your 
baggage  car  here.  And  go  to  the  grove,"  he  added  to 
one  of  the  picnickers,  "  and  bring  four  or  five  carriage 
cushions.  And  you  hold  this." 

The  man  beside  him  took  the  tourniquet,  as  he  was  bid. 
Austen  Vane  drew  a  note-book  from  his  pocket. 

"  I  want  this  man's  name  and  address,"  he  said,  "  and 
the  names  and  addresses  of  every  person  here,  quickly." 

He  did  not  lift  his  voice,  but  the  man  who  had  taken 
charge  of  such  a  situation  was  not  to  be  denied.  They 
obeyed  him,  some  eagerly,  some  reluctantly,  and  by  that 
time  the  train  had  backed  down  and  the  cushions  had 
arrived.  They  laid  these  on  the  floor  of  the  baggage  car 
and  lifted  the  man  011  to  them.  His  name  was  Zeb 
Header,  and  he  was  still  insensible.  Austen  Vane,  with 


CONCERNING  THE   PRACTICE   OF   LAW        27 

a  peculiar  set  look  upon  his  face,  sat  beside  him  all  the 
way  into  Ripton.  He  spoke  only  once,  and  that  was  to 
tell  the  conductor  to  telegraph  from  Avalon  to  have  the 
ambulance  from  St.  Mary's  Hospital  meet  the  train  at 
Ripton. 

The  next  day  Hilary  Vane,  returning  from  one  of  his 
periodical  trips  to  the  northern  part  of  the  State,  invaded 
his  son's  office. 

"  What's  this  they  tell  me  about  your  saving  a  man's 
life  ?  "  he  asked,  sinking  into  one  of  the  vacant  chairs  and 
regarding  Austen  with  his  twinkling  eyes. 

"  I  don't  know  what  they  tell  you,"  Austen  answered. 
"  I  didn't  do  anything  but  get  a  tourniquet  on  his  leg  and 
have  him  put  on  the  train." 

The  Honourable  Hilary  grunted,  and  continued  to  regard 
his  son.  Then  he  cut  a  piece  of  Honey  Dew. 

"  Looks  bad,  does  it  ?  "  he  said. 

"  Well,"  replied  Austen,  "  it  might  have  been  done 
better.  It  was  bungled.  In  a  death-trap  as  cleverly  con 
ceived  as  that  crossing,  with  a  down  grade  approaching  it, 
they  ought  to  have  got  the  horse  too." 

The  Honourable  Hilary  grunted  again,  and  inserted 
the  Honey  Dew.  He  resolved  to  ignore  the  palpable 
challenge  in  this  remark,  which  was  in  keeping  with  this 
new  and  serious  mien  in  Austen. 

"  Get  the  names  of  witnesses  ?  "  was  his  next  question. 

"  I  took  particular  pains  to  do  so." 

"  Hand  'em  over  to  Tooting.  What  kind  of  man  is  this 
Meagre  ?  " 

4  He  is  rather  meagre  now,"  said  Austen,  smiling  a  little. 
"His  name's  Meader." 

'  •  Is  he  likely  to  make  a  fuss  ?  " 

"  I  think  he  is,"  said  Austen. 

"Well,"  said  the  Honourable  Hilary,  "we  must  have  Ham 
Tooting  hurry  'round  and  fix  it  up  with  him  as  soon  as 
he  can  talk,  before  one  of  these  cormorant  lawyers  gets 
his  claw  in  him/' 

Austen  said  nothing,  and  after  some  desultory  conversa 
tion,  in  which  he  knew  how  to  indulge  when  he  wished  to 


28  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

conceal  the  fact  that  he  was  baffled,  the  Honourable 
Hilary  departed.  That  student  of  human  nature,  Mr. 
Hamilton  Tooting,  a  young  man  of  a  sporting  appearance 
and  a  free  vocabulary,  made  the  next  attempt.  '  It  is  a 
characteristic  of  Mr.  Tooting's  kind  that,  in  their  efforts 
to  be  genial,  they  often  use  an  awkward  diminutive  of 
their  friends'  names. 

"  Hello,  Aust,"  said  Mr.  Tooting,  "  I  dropped  in  to  get 
those  witnesses  in  that  Meagre  accident,  before  I  for 
get  it." 

"  I  think  I'll  keep  'em,"  said  Austen,  making  a  note  out 
of  the  Revised  Statutes. 

"  Oh,  all  right,  all  right,"  said  Mr.  Tooting,  biting  off 
a  piece  of  his  cigar.  "  Going  to  handle  the  case  yourself, 
are  you  ?  " 

"I  may." 

"  I'm  just  as  glad  to  have  some  of  'em  off  my  hands,  and 
this  looks  to  me  like  a  nasty  one.  I  don't  like  those 
Mercer  people.  The  last  farmer  they  ran  over  there 
raised  hell." 

"  I  shouldn't  blame  this  one  if  he  did,  if  he  ever  gets 
well  enough,"  said  Austen.  Young  Mr.  Tooting  paused 
with  a  lighted  match  halfway  to  his  cigar  and  looked  at 
Austen  shrewdly,  and  then  sat  down  on  the  desk  very 
close  to  him. 

"  Say,  Aust,  it  sometimes  sickens  a  man  to  have  to  buy 
these  fellows  off.  What  ?  Poor  devils,  they  don't  get 
anything  like  what  they  ought  to  get,  do  they  ?  Wait  till 
you  see  how  the  Railroad  Commission'll  whitewash  that 
case.  It  makes  a  man  want  to  be  independent.  What  ?  " 

"  This  sounds  like  virtue,  Ham." 

"  I've  often  thought,  too,"  said  Mr.  Tooting,  "  that  a 
man  could  make  more  money  if  he  didn't  wear  the  collar." 

"  But  not  sleep  as  well,  perhaps,"  said  Austen. 

"  Say,  Aust,  you're  not  on  the  level  with  me." 

"I  hope  to  reach  that  exalted  plane  some  day,  Ham." 

"  What's  got  into  you  ?  "  demanded  the  usually  clear 
headed  Mr.  Tooting,  now  a  little  bewildered. 

"  Nothing,  yet,"  said  Austen,  "  but  I'm  thinking  seri- 


CONCERNING   THE   PRACTICE   OF   LAW        29 

ously   of  having  a  sandwich  and   a  piece   of   apple  pie. 
Will  you  come  along  ?  " 

They  crossed  the  square  together,  Mr.  Tooting  racking  a 
normally  fertile  brain  for  some  excuse  to  reopen  the  subject. 
Despairing  of  that,  he  decided  that  any  subject  would  do. 

44  That  Humphrey  Crewe  up  at  Leith  is  smart  —  smart 
as  paint,"  he  remarked.  44  Do  you  know  him?  " 

44  I've  seen  him,"  said  Austen.  44  He's  a  young  man, 
isn't  he  ?  " 

44  And  natty.  He  knows  a  thing  or  two  for  a  million 
aire  that  don't  have  to  work,  and  he  runs  that  place  of  his 
right  up  to  the  handle.  You  ought  to  hear  him  talk  about 
the  tariff,  and  national  politics.  I  was  passing  there  the 
other  day,  and  he  was  walking  around  among  the  flower 
beds.  4  Ain't  your  name  Tooting  ?  '  he  hollered.  I  almost 
fell  out  of  the  buggy." 

44  What  did  he  want  ?  "  asked  Austen,  curiously.  Mr. 
Tooting  winked. 

44  Say,  those  millionaires  are  queer,  and  no  mistake. 
You'd  think  a  fellow  that  only  had  to  cut  coupons  wouldn't 
be  lookin' for  another  job,  wouldn't  you?  He  made  me 
hitch  my  horse,  and  had  me  into  his  study,  as  he  called 
it,  and  gave  me  a  big  glass  of  whiskey  and  soda.  A  fel 
low  with  buttons  and  a  striped  vest  brought  it  on  tiptoe. 
Then  this  Crewe  gave  me  a  long  yellow  cigar  with  a  band 
on  it  and  told  me  what  the  State  needed,  —  macadam 
roads,  farmers'  institutes,  forests,  and  God  knows  what. 
I  told  him  all  he  had  to  do  was  to  get  permission  from  old 
man  Flint,  and  he  could  have  'em." 

44  What  did  he  say  to  that  ?  " 

44  He  said  Flint  was  an  intimate  friend  of  his.  Then  he 
asked  me  a  whole  raft  of  questions  about  fellows  in  the 
neighbourhood  I  didn't  know  he'd  ever  heard  of.  Say,  he 
vants  to  go  from  Leith  to  the  Legislature." 

44  He  can  go  for  all  I  care,"  said  Austen,  as  he  pushed 
open  the  door  of  the  restaurant. 

For  a  few  days  Mr.  Meader  hung  between  life  and 
death.  But  he  came  of  a  stock  which  had  for  genera- 


30  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

tions  thrust  its  roots  into  the  crevices  of  granite,  and 
was  not  easily  killed  by  steam-engines.  Austen  Vane 
called  twice,  and  then  made  an  arrangement  with  young 
Dr.  •  Tredway  (one  of  the  numerous  Ripton  Tredways 
whose  money  had  founded  the  hospital)  that  he  was  to 
see  Mr.  Meader  as  soon  as  he  was  able  to  sustain  a  con 
versation.  Dr.  Tredway,  by  the  way,  was  a  bachelor, 
and  had  been  Austen's  companion  on  many  a  boisterous 
expedition. 

When  Austen,  in  response  to  the  doctor's  telephone 
message,  stood  over  the  iron  bed  in  the  spick-and-span 
men's  ward  of  St.  Mary's,  a  wave  of  that  intense  feeling 
he  had  experienced  at  the  accident  swept  over  him.  The 
farmer's  beard  was  overgrown,  and  the  eyes  looked  up 
at  him  as  from  caverns  of  suffering  below  the  bandage. 
They  were  shrewd  eyes,  however,  and  proved  that  Mr. 
Meader  had  possession  of  the  five  senses  —  nay,  of  the 
six.  Austen  sat  down  beside  the  bed. 

"  Dr.  Tredway  tells  me  you  are  getting  along  finely,"  he 
said. 

"  No  thanks  to  the  railrud,"  answered  Mr.  Meader ; 
"they  done  their  best." 

"  Did  you  hear  any  whistle  or  any  bell  ?  "  Austen  asked. 

"Not  a  sound,"  said  Mr.  Meader;  "they  even  shut  off 
their  steam  on  that  grade." 

Austen  Vane,  like  most  men  who  are  really  capable  of 
a  deep  sympathy,  was  not  an  adept  at  expressing  it  ver 
bally.  Moreover,  he  knew  enough  of  his  fellow-men  to 
realize  that  a  Puritan  farmer  would  be  suspicious  of  sym 
pathy.  The  man  had  been  near  to  death  himself,  was 
compelled  to  spend  part  of  the  summer,  his  bread-earning 
season,  in  a  hospital,  and  yet  no  appeal  or  word  of  com 
plaint  had  crossed  his  lips. 

"  Mr.  Meader,"  said  Austen,  "  I  came  over  here  to  tell 
you  that  in  my  opinion  you  are  entitled  to  heavy  damages 
from  the  railroad,  and  to  advise  you  not  to  accept  a  com 
promise.  They  will  send  some  one  to  you  and  offer  you  a 
sum  far  below  that  which  you  ought  in  justice  to  receive. 
You  ought  to  fight  this  case." 


CONCERNING  THE   PRACTICE   OF   LAW        31 

"  How  am  I  going  to  pay  a  lawyer,  with  a  mortgage  on 
my  farm  ?  "  demanded  Mr.  Header. 

"I'm  a  lawyer,"  said  Austen,  "and  if  you'll  take  me, 
I'll  defend  you  without  charge." 

"  Ain't  you  the  son  of  Hilary  Vane  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  I've  heerd  of  him  a  good  many  times,"  said  Mr.  Meader, 
as  if  to  ask  what  man  had  not.  "  You're  railrud,  ain't  ye  ?  " 

"No." 

Mr.  Meader  gazed  long  and  thoughtfully  into  the  young 
man's  face,  and  the  suspicion  gradually  faded  from  the 
farmer's  blue  eyes. 

"I  like  your  looks,"  he  said  at  last.  "I  guess  you 
saved  my  life.  I'm  —  I'm  much  obliged  to  you." 

When  Mr.  Tooting  arrived  later  in  the  day,  he  found 
Mr.  Meader  willing  to  listen,  but  otherwise  strangely 
non-committal.  With  native  shrewdness,  the  farmer 
asked  him  what  office  he  came  from,  but  did  not  confide 
in  Mr.  Tooting  the  fact  that  Mr.  Vane's  son  had  volun 
teered  to  wring  more  money  from  Mr.  Vane's  client  than 
Mr.  Tooting  offered  him.  Considerably  bewildered,  that 
gentleman  left  the  hospital  to  report  the  affair  to  the  Hon 
ourable  Hilary,  who,  at  intervals  during  the  afternoon, 
found  himself  relapsing  into  speculation. 

Inside  of  a  somewhat  unpromising  shell,  Mr.  Zeb  Meader 
was  a  human  being,  and  no  mean  judge  of  men  and  mo 
tives.  As  his  convalescence  progressed,  Austen  Vane  fell 
into  the  habit  of  dropping  in  from  time  to  time  to  chat 
with  him,  and  gradually  was  rewarded  by  many  vivid 
character  sketches  of  Mr.  Meader's  neighbours  in  Mercer 
and  its  vicinity.  One  afternoon,  when  Austen  came  into 
the  ward,  he  found  at  Mr.  Meader's  bedside  a  basket  of 
fruit  which  looked  too  expensive  and  tempting  to  have 
come  from  any  dealer's  in  Ripton. 

"  A  lady  came  with  that,"  Mr.  Meader  explained.  "  I 
never  was  popular  before  I  was  run  over  by  the  cars. 
She's  be'n  here  twice.  When  she  fetched  it  to-day,  I 
kind  of  thought  she  was  up  to  some  game,  and  I  didn't 
want  to  take  it." 


32  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

"  Up  to  some  game  ?  "  repeated  Austen. 

"Well,  I  don't  know,"  continued  Mr.  Header,  thought 
fully,  "  the  woman  here  tells  me  she  comes  regular  in  the 
summer  time  to  see  sick  folks,  but  from  the  way  she  made 
up  to  me  I  had  an  idea  that  she  wanted  something.  But  I 
don't  know.  Thought  I'd  ask  you.  You  see,  she's  railrud  " 

"  Railroad ! " 

"She's  Flint's  daughter." 

Austen  laughed. 

"  I  shouldn't  worry  about  that,"  he  said.  "  If  Mr.  Flint 
sent  his  daughter  with  fruit  to  everybody  his  railroad 
injures,  she  wouldn't  have  time  to  do  anything  else.  I 
doubt  if  Mr.  Flint  ever  heard  of  your  case." 

Mr.  Meader  considered  this,  and  calculated  there  was 
something  in  it. 

"She  was  a  nice,  common  young  lady,  and  cussed  if 
she  didn't  make  me  laugh,  she  has  such  a  funny  way  of 
talkin'.  She  wanted  to  know  all  about  you." 

"  What  did  she  want  to  know  ?  "  Austen  exclaimed,  not 
unnaturally. 

"  Well,  she  wanted  to  know  about  the  accident,  and  I 
told  her  how  you  druv  up  and  screwed  that  thing  around 
my  leg  and  backed  the  train  down.  She  was  a  good  deal 
took  with  that." 

"  I  think  you  are  inclined  to  make  too  much  of  it," 
said  Austen. 

Three  days  later,  as  he  was  about  to  enter  the  ward, 
Mr.  Meader  being  now  the  only  invalid  there,  he  heard  a 
sound  which  made  him  pause  in  the  doorway.  The  sound 
was  feminine  laughter  of  a  musical  quality  that  struck 
pleasantly  on  Austen's  ear.  Miss  Victoria  Flint  was 
seated  beside  Mr.  Meader's  bed,  and  qualified  friendship 
had  evidently  been  replaced  by  intimacy  since  Austen's 
last  visit,  for  Mr.  Meader  was  laughing,  too. 

"  And  now  I'm  quite  sure  you  have  missed  your  voca 
tion,  Mr.  Meader,"  said  Victoria.  "You  would  have 
made  a  fortune  on  the  stage." 

"  Me  a  play-actor !  "  exclaimed  the  invalid.  "  How 
much  wages  do  they  git  ?  " 


CONCERNING   THE   PRACTICE   OF   LAW        33 

"  Untold  sums,"  she  declared,  "  if  they  can  talk  like  you." 

"He  kind  of  thought  that  story  funny  —  same  as  you," 
Mr.  Meader  ruminated,  and  glanced  up.  "  Drat  me,"  he 
remarked,  "  if  he  ain't  a-comin'  now  !  I  callated  he'd 
run  acrost  you  sometime." 

Victoria  raised  her  eyes,  sparkling  with  humour,  and 
they  met  Austen's. 

u  We  was  just  talkin'  about  you,"  cried  Mr.  Meader, 
cordially;  "  come  right  in."  He  turned  to  Victoria.  "I 
want  to  make  you  acquainted,"  he  said, "  with  Austen  Vane." 

"And  won't  you  tell  him  who  I  am,  Mr.  Meader?" 
said  Victoria. 

"  Well,"  said  Mr.  Meader,  apologetically,  "  that  was 
stupid  of  me  —  wahn't  it?  But  I  callated  he'd  know. 
She's  the  daughter  of  the  railrud  president  —  the  one 
that  was  askin'  about  you." 

There  was  an  instant's  pause,  and  the  colour  stole  into 
Victoria's  cheeks.  Then  she  glanced  at  Austen  and  bit 
ner  lip  —  and  laughed.  Her  laughter  was  contagious. 

"  I  suppose  I  shall  have  to  confess  that  you  have  in 
spired  my  curiosity,  Mr.  Vane,"  she  said. 

Austen's  face  was  sunburned,  but  it  flushed  a  more 
vivid  red  under  the  tan.  It  is  needless  to  pretend  that  a 
man  of  his  appearance  and  qualities  had  reached  the  age 
of  thirty-two  without  having  listened  to  feminine  com 
ments  of  which  he  was  the  exclusive  subject.  In  this  re 
mark  of  Victoria's,  or  rather  in  the  manner  in  which  she 
made  it,  he  recognized  a  difference. 

"  It  is  a  tribute,  then,  to  the  histrionic  talents  of  Mr. 
Meader,  of  which  you  were  speaking,"  he  replied  laugh 
ingly. 

Victoria  glanced  at  him  with  interest  as  he  looked 
down  at  Mr.  Meader. 

"  And  how  is  it  to-day,  Zeb  ?  "  he  said. 

"  It  ain't  so  bad  as  it  might  be  —  with  sech  folks  as  her 
and  you  araound,"  admitted  Mr.  Meader.  "  I'd  almost 
agree  to  get  run  over  again.  She  was  askin'  about  you, 
and  that's  a  fact,  and  I  didn't  slander  you,  neither.  But 
I  never  callated  to  comprehend  wimmen-folks." 


34  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

"  Now,  Mr.  Meader,"  said  Victoria,  reprovingly,  but 
there  were  little  creases  about  her  eyes,  "  don't  be  a  fraud." 

"  It's  true  as  gospel,"  declared  the  invalid;  "  they  always 
got  the  better  of  me.  I  had  one  of  'em  after  me  once, 
when  I  was  young  and  prosperin'  some." 

"  And  yet  you  have  survived  triumphant,"  she  ex 
claimed. 

"  There  wahn't  none  of  'em  like  you,"  said  Mr.  Meader, 
"  or  it  might  have  be'n  different." 

Again  her  eyes  irresistibly  sought  Austen's,  —  as  though 
to  share  with  him  the  humour  of  this  remark,  —  and  they 
laughed  together.  Her  colour,  so  sensitive,  rose  again, 
but  less  perceptibly  this  time.  Then  she  got  up. 

"  That's  unfair,  Mr.  Meader  !  "  she  protested. . 

"I'll  leave  it  to  Austen,"  said  Mr.  Meader,  "if  it  ain't 
probable.  Hejd  ought  to  know." 

In  spite  of  a  somewhat  natural  embarrassment,  Austen 
could  not  but  acknowledge  to  himself  that  Mr.  Meader 
was  right.  With  a  womanly  movement  which  he  thought 
infinitely  graceful,  Victoria  leaned  over  the  bed. 

"Mr.  Meader,"  she  said,  "I'm  beginning  to  think  it's 
dangerous  for  me  to  come  here  twice  a  week  to  see  you, 
if  you  talk  this  way.  And  I'm  not  a  bit  surprised  that 
that  woman  didn't  get  the  better  of  you." 

"You  hain't  a-goin' !  "  he  exclaimed.  "Why,  I  cal- 
lated — " 

"  Goqd-by,"  she  said  quickly ;  "  I'm  glad  to  see  that 
you  are  doing  so  well."  She  raised  her  head  and  looked 
at  Austen  in  a  curious,  inscrutable  way.  "  Good-by,  Mr. 
Vane,"  she  said;  "I  —  I  hope  Mr.  Blodgett  has  recovered." 

Before  he  could  reply  she  had  vanished,  and  he  was 
staring  at  the  empty  doorway.  The  reference  to  the  un 
fortunate  Mr.  Blodgett,  after  taking  his  breath  away, 
aroused  in  him  an  intense  curiosity  —  betraying,  as  it  did, 
a  certain  knowledge  of  past  events  in  his  life  in  the 
hitherto  unknown  daughter  of  Augustus  Flint.  What 
interest  could  she  have  in  him  ?  Such  a  question,  from 
similar  sources,  has  heightened  the  pulse  of  young  men 
from  time  immemorial. 


SHE     RAISED     HER     HEAD    AND    LOOKED    AT     AUSTEN     IN     A     CURIOUS, 
INSCRUTABLE    WAY. 


CHAPTER   IV 


THE  proverbial  little  birds  that  carry  news  and  prophe 
cies  through  the  air  were  evidently  responsible  for  an 
official-looking  letter  which  Austen  received  a  few  morn 
ings  later.  On  the  letter-head  was  printed  "  The  United 
Northeastern  Railroads,"  and  Mr.  Austen  Vane  was  in 
formed  that,  by  direction  of  the  president,  the  enclosed  was 
sent  to  him  in  an  entirely  complimentary  sense.  "  The 
enclosed  "  was  a  ticket  of  red  cardboard,  and  its  face  in 
formed  him  that  he  might  travel  free  for  the  rest  of  the 
year.  Thoughtfully  turning  it  over,  he  read  on  the  back 
the  following  inscription:  — 

"It  is  understood  that  this  pass  is  accepted  by  its  recipient 
as  a  retainer." 

Austen  stared  at  it  and  whistled.  Then  he  pushed 
back  his  chair,  with  the  pass  in  his  hand,  and  hesitated. 
He  seized  a  pen  and  wrote  a  few  lines:  "Dear  sir,  I  beg 
to  return  the  annual  pass  over  the  Northeastern  Railroads 
with  which  you  have  so  kindly  honoured  me  "  — when  he 
suddenly  changed  his  mind  again,  rose,  and  made  his  way 
through  the  corridors  to  his  father's  office.  The  Honour 
able  Hilary  was  absorbed  in  his  daily  perusal  of  the 
G-uardian. 

"Judge,"  he  asked,  "is  Mr.  Flint  up  at  his  place  this 
week  ?  " 

The  Honourable  Hilary  coughed. 

"  He  arrived  yesterday  on  the  three.     Er  — why  ?  " 

"  I  wanted  to  go  up  and  thank  him  for  this,"  his  son 
answered,  holding  up  the  red  piece  of  cardboard.  "  Mr. 
Flint  is  a  very  thoughtful  man." 

The  Honourable  Hilary  tried  to  look  unconcerned,  and 
succeeded. 


36  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

"  Sent  you  an  annual,  has  he  ?  Er  —  I  don't  know  as  I'd 
bother  him  personally,  Austen.  Just  a  pleasant  note  of 
acknowledgment. " 

"  I  don't  flatter  myself  that  my  achievements  in  the  law 
can  be  responsible  for  it,"  said  Austen.  "The  favour  must 
be  due  to  my  relationship  with  his  eminent  chief  counsel." 

Hilary  Vane's  keen  eyes  rested  on  his  son  for  an  instant. 
Austen  was  more  than  ever  an  enigma  to  him. 

"  I  guess  relationship  hasn't  got  much  to  do  with  busi 
ness,"  he  replied.  "You  have  be'n  doing  —  er  —  better 
than  I  expected." 

"  Thank  you,  Judge,"  said  Austen,  quietly.  "  I  don't 
mind  saying  that  I  would  rather  have  your  approbation 
than  —  this  more  substantial  recognition  of  merit." 

The  Honourable  Hilary's  business  was  to  deal  with  men, 
and  by  reason  of  his  ability  in  so  doing  he  had  made 
a  success  in  life.  He  could  judge  motives  more  than 
passably  well,  and  play  upon  weaknesses.  But  he  left 
Austen's  presence  that  morning  vaguely  uneasy,  with  a 
sense  of  having  received  from  his  own  son  an  initial  defeat 
at  a  game  of  which  he  was  a  master.  Under  the  excuse 
of  looking  up  some  precedents,  he  locked  his  doors  to  all 
comers  for  two  hours,  and  paced  his  room.  At  one 
moment  he  reproached  himself  for  not  having  been  frank; 
for  not  having  told  Austen  roundly  that  this  squeamish- 
ness  about  a  pass  was  unworthy  of  a  strong  man  of  affairs; 
yes,  for  not  having  revealed  to  him  the  mysteries  of  rail 
road  practice  from  the  beginning.  But  frankness  was  not 
an  ingredient  of  the  Honourable  Hilary's  nature,  and  Austen 
was  not  the  kind  of  man  who  would  accept  a  hint  and  a 
wink.  Hilary  Vane  had  formless  forebodings,  and  found 
himself  for  once  in  his  life  powerless  to  act. 

The  cost  of  living  in  Ripton  was  not  so  high  that  Aus 
ten  Vane  could  not  afford  to  keep  a  horse  and  buggy. 
The  horse,  which  he  tended  himself,  was  appropriately 
called  Pepper;  Austen  had  found  him  in  the  hills,  and  he 
was  easily  the  finest  animal  in  Ripton:  so  good,  in  fact, 
that  Mr.  Humphrey  Ore  we  (who  believed  he  had  an  eye 
for  horses)  had  peremptorily  hailed  Austen  from  a  motor 


"TIMED   DANAOS"  37 

car  and  demanded  the  price,  as  was  Mr.  Crewe's  wont 
when  he  saw  a  thing  he  desired.  He  had  been  somewhat 
surprised  and  not  inconsiderably  offended  by  the  brevity 
and  force  of  the  answer  which  he  had  received. 

On  the  afternoon  of  the  summer's  day  in  which  Austen 
had  the  conversation  with  his  father  just  related,  Pepper 
was  trotting  at  a  round  clip  through  the  soft  and  shady 
wood  roads  toward  the  town  of  Tunbridge;  the  word 
"  town  "  being  used  in  the  New  England  sense,  as  a  piece 
of  territory  about  six  miles  by  six.  The  fact  that  auto 
mobiles  full  of  laughing  people  from  Leith  hummed  by 
occasionally  made  no  apparent  difference  to  Pepper,  who 
knew  only  the  master  hand  on  the  reins;  the  reality  that 
the  wood  roads  were  climbing  great  hills  the  horse  did 
not  seem  to  feel.  Pepper  knew  every  lane  and  by-path 
within  twenty  miles  of  Ripton,  and  exhibited  such  sur 
prise  as  a  well-bred  horse  may  when  he  was  slowed  down 
at  length  and  turned  into  a  hard,  blue-stone  driveway 
under  a  strange  granite  arch  with  the  word  "  Fair  view  " 
cut  in  Gothic  letters  above  it,  and  two  great  lamps  in 
wrought-iron  brackets  at  the  sides.  It  was  Austen  who 
made  a  note  of  the  gratings  over  the  drains,  and  of  the 
acres  of  orderly  forest  in  a  mysterious  and  seemingly 
enchanted  realm.  Intimacy  with  domains  was  new  to 
him,  and  he  began  to  experience  an  involuntary  feeling 
of  restraint  which  was  new  to  him  likewise,  and  made 
him  chafe  in  spite  of  himself.  The  estate  seemed  to  be 
the  visible  semblance  of  a  power  which  troubled  him. 

Shortly  after  passing  an  avenue  neatly  labelled  "  Trade's 
Drive "  the  road  wound  upwards  through  a  ravine  the 
sides  of  which  were  covered  with  a  dense  shrubbery  which 
had  the  air  of  having  always  been  there,  and  yet  somehow 
looked  expensive.  At  the  top  of  the  ravine  was  a  sharp 
curve;  and  Austen,  drawing  breath,  found  himself  swung, 
as  it  were,  into  space,  looking  off  across  miles  of  forest- 
covered  lowlands  to  an  ultramarine  mountain  in  the  hazy 
south, —  Sawanec.  As  if  in  obedience  to  a  telepathic 
command  of  his  master,  Pepper  stopped. 

Drinking  his  fill  of  this  scene,  Austen  forgot  an  errand 


38  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

which  was  not  only  disagreeable,  but  required  some  forti 
tude  for  its  accomplishment.  The  son  had  this  in  com 
mon  with  the  Honourable  Hilary  —  he  hated  heroics;  and 
the  fact  that  the  thing  smacked  of  heroics  was  Austen's 
only  deterrent.  And  then  there  was  a  woman  in  this 
paradise!  These  gradual  insinuations  into  his  revery  at 
length  made  him  turn.  A  straight  avenue  of  pear-shaped, 
fifteen-year-old  maples  led  to  the  house,  a  massive  colonial 
structure  of  wood  that  stretched  across  the  shelf;  and 
he  had  tightened  the  reins  and  started  courageously  up 
the  avenue  when  he  perceived  that  it  ended  in  a  circle 
on  which  there  was  no  sign  of  a  hitching-post.  And, 
worse  than  this,  on  the  balconied,  uncovered  porch  which 
he  would  have  to  traverse  to  reach  the  doorway  he  saw 
the  sheen  and  glimmer  of  women's  gowns  grouped  about 
wicker  tables,  and  became  aware  that  his  approach  was 
the  sole  object  of  the  scrutiny  of  an  afternoon  tea- 
party. 

As  he  reached  the  circle  it  was  a  slight  relief  to  learn 
that  Pepper  was  the  attraction.  No  horse  knew  better  than 
Pepper  when  he  was  being  admired,  and  he  arched  his  neck 
and  lifted  his  feet  and  danced  in  the  sheer  exhilaration  of 
it.  A  smooth-faced,  red-cheeked  gentleman  in  gray  flan 
nels  leaned  over  the  balustrade  and  made  audible  com 
ments  in  a  penetrating  voice  which  betrayed  the  fact  that 
he  was  Mr.  Humphrey  Crewe. 

"  Saw  him  on  the  street  in  Ripton  last  year.  Good 
hock  action,  hasn't  he  ?  —  that's  rare  in  trotters  around 
here.  Tried  to  buy  him.  Feller  wouldn't  sell.  His 
name's  Vane  —  he's  drivin'  him  now." 

A  lady  of  a  somewhat  commanding  presence  was  beside 
him.  She  was  perhaps  five  and  forty,  her  iron-gray  hair 
was  dressed  to  perfection,  her  figure  all.  that  Parisian  art 
could  make  it,  and  she  was  regarding  Austen  with  ex 
treme  deliberation  through  the  glasses  which  she  had 
raised  to  a  high-bridged  nose. 

"  Politics  is  certainly  your  career,  Humphrey,"  she  re 
marked,  "you  have  such  a  wonderful  memory  for  faces. 
I  don't  see  how  he  does  it,  do  you,  Alice  ?  "  she  demanded 


"TIMEO   DANAOS"  39 

of  a  tall  girl  beside  her,  who  was  evidently  her  daughter, 
but  lacked  her  personality. 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Alice. 

"  It's  because  I've  been  here  longer  than  anybody  else, 
Mrs.  Pomfret,"  answered  Mr.  Ore  we,  not  very  graciously, 
"  that's  all.  Hello."  This  last  to  Austen. 

"  Hello,"  said  Austen. 

"  Who  do  you  want  to  see  ?  "  inquired  Mr.  Ore  we,  with 
the  admirable  tact  for  which  he  was  noted. 

Austen  looked  at  him  for  the  first  time. 

"Anybody  who  will  hold  my  horse,"  he  answered 
quietly. 

By  this  time  the  conversation  had  drawn  the  attention  of 
the  others  at  the  tables,  and  one  or  two  smiled  at  Austen's 
answer.  Mrs.  Flint,  with  a  "  Who  is  it  ? "  arose  to  repel 
a  social  intrusion.  She  was  an  overdressed  lady,  inclining 
to  embonpoint,  but  traces  of  the  Rose  of  Sharon  were  still 
visible. 

"  Why  don't  you  drive  'round  to  the  stables  ?  "  sug 
gested  Mr.  Ore  we,  unaware  of  a  smile. 

Austen  did  not  answer.  He  was,  in  fact,  looking  towards 
the  doorway,  and  the  group  on  the  porch  were  surprised 
to  see  a  gleam  of  mirthful  understanding  start  in  his  eyes. 
An  answering  gleam  was  in  Victoria's,  who  had  at  that 
moment,  by  a  singular  coincidence,  come  out  of  the  house. 
She  came  directly  down  the  steps  and  out  on  the  gravel, 
and  held  her  hand  to  him  in  the  buggy,  and  he  flushed 
with  pleasure  as  he  grasped  it. 

"  How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Vane  ?  "  she  said.  "  I  am  so  glad 
you  have  called.  Humphrey,  just  push  the  stable  button, 
will  you  ?  " 

Mr.  Crewe  obeyed  with  no  very  good  grace,  while  the 
tea-party  went  back  to  their  seats.  Mrs.  Flint  supposed 
he  had  come  to  sell  Victoria  the  horse ;  while  Mrs.  rPom- 
fret,  who  had  taken  him  in  from  crown  to  boots,  remarked 
that  he  looked  very  much  like  a  gentleman. 

"  I  came  to  see  your  father  for  a  few  moments  —  on 
business,"  Austen  explained. 

She  lifted  her  face  to  his  with  a  second  searching  look. 


40  MR.   CREWE'S  CAREER 

"  I'll  take  you  to  him,"  she  said. 

By  this  time  a  nimble  groom  had  appeared  from  out  of 
a  shrubbery  path  and  seized  Pepper's  head.  Austen 
alighted  and  followed  Victoria  into  a  great,  cool  hallway, 
and  through  two  darkened  rooms,  bewilderingly  furnished 
and  laden  with  the  scent  of  flowers,  into  a  narrow  passage 
beyond.  She  led  the  way  simply,  not  speaking,  and  her 
silence  seemed  to  betoken  the  completeness  of  an  under 
standing  between  them,  as  of  a  long  acquaintance. 

In  a  plain  whitewashed  room,  behind  a  plain  oaken  desk, 
sat  Mr.  Flint  —  a  plain  man.  Austen  thought  he  would 
have  known  him  had  he  seen  him  on  the  street.  The  other 
things  in  the  room  were  letter-hies,  a  safe,  a  long-distance 
telephone,  and  a  thin  private  secretary  with  a  bend  in  his 
back.  Mr.  Flint  looked  up  from  his  desk,  and  his  face, 
previously  bereft  of  illumination,  lighted  when  he  saw  his 
daughter.  Austen  liked  that  in  him. 

"  Well,  Vic,  what  is  it  now  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Mr.  Austen  Vane  to  see  you,"  said  Victoria,  and  with 
a  quick  glance  at  Austen  she  left  him  standing  on  the 
threshold.  Mr.  Flint  rose.  His  eyes  were  deep-set  in  a 
square,  hard  head,  and  he  appeared  to  be  taking  Austen  in 
without  directly  looking  at  him  ;  likewise,  one  felt  that 
Mr.  Flint's  handshake  was  not  an  absolute  gift  of  his 
soul. 

"  How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Vane  ?  I  don't  remember  ever 
to  have  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  you,  although  your 
father  and  I  have  been  intimately  connected  for  many 
years." 

So  the  president's  manner  was  hearty,  but  not  the  sub 
stance.  It  came,  Austen  thought,  from  a  rarity  of  meeting 
with  men  on  a  disinterested  footing;  and  he  could  not  but 
wonder  how  Mr.  Flint  would  treat  the  angels  in  heaven  if 
he  ever  got  there,  where  there  were  no  franchises  to  be 
had.  Would  he  suspect  them  of  designs  upon  his  hard- 
won  harp  and  halo  ?  Austen  did  not  dislike  Mr.  Flint; 
the  man's  rise,  his  achievements,  his  affection  for  his 
daughter,  he  remembered.  But  he  was  also  well  aware 
that  Mr.  Flint  had  thrown  upon  him  the  onus  of  the  first 


"TIMEO   DANAOS"  41 

move  in  a  game  which  the  railroad  president  was  used  to 
playing  every  day.  The  dragon  was  on  his  home  ground 
and  had  the  choice  of  weapons. 

"  I  do  not  wish  to  bother  you  long,"  said  Austen. 

"  No  bother,"  answered  Mr.  Flint,  "  no  bother  to  make 
the  acquaintance  of  the  son  of  my  old  friend,  Hilary  Vane. 
Sit  down  —  sit  down.  And  while  I  don't  believe  any  man 
should  depend  upon  his  father  to  launch  him  in  the  world, 
yet  it  must  be  a  great  satisfaction  to  you,  Mr.  Vane,  to 
have  such  a  father.  Hilary  Vane  and  I  have  been  in 
timately  associated  for  many  years,  and  my  admiration 
for  him  has  increased  with  every  year.  It  is  to  men  of 
his  type  that  the  prosperity,  the  greatness,  of  this  nation  is 
largely  due,  —  conservative,  upright,  able,  content  to  con 
fine  himself  to  the  difficult  work  for  which  he  is  so 
eminently  fitted,  without  spectacular  meddling  in  things  in 
which  he  can  have  no  concern.  Therefore  I  welcome  the 
opportunity  to  know  you,  sir,  for  I  understand  that  you 
have  settled  down  to  follow  in  his  footsteps  and  that  you 
will  make  a  name  for  yourself.  I  know  the  independence 
of  young  men  —  I  was  young  once  myself.  But  after  all, 
Mr.  Vane,  experience  is  the  great  teacher,  and  perhaps 
there  is  some  little  advice  which  an  old  man  can  give  you 
that  may  be  of  service.  As  your  father's  son,  it  is  always 
at  your  disposal.  Have  a  cigar." 

The  thin  secretary  continued  to  flit  about  the  room, 
between  the  letter-files  and  the  desk.  Austen  had  found 
it  infinitely  easier  to  shoot  Mr.  Blodgett  than  to  engage 
in  a  duel  with  the  president  of  the  United  Railroads. 

"  I  smoke  a  pipe,"  he  said. 

"  Too  many  young  men  smoke  cigars — and  those  dis 
gusting  cigarettes,"  said  Mr.  Flint,  with  conviction.  "  There 
are  a  lot  of  worthless  young  men  in  these  days,  anyhow. 
They  come  to  my  house  and  loaf  and  drink  and  smoke, 
and  talk  a  lot  of  nonsense  about  games  and  automobiles 
and  clubs,  and  cumber  the  earth  generally.  There's  a 
young  man  named  Crewe  over  at  Leith,  for  instance  —  you 
may  have  seen  him.  Not  that  he's  dissipated,  —  but  he 
don't  do  anything  but  talk  about  railroads  and  the  stock 


42  MR.    CREWE'S  CAREER 

market  to  make  you  sick,  and  don't  know  any  more  about 
'em  than  my  farmer." 

During  this  diatribe  Austen  saw  his  opening  growing 
smaller  and  smaller.  If  he  did  not  make  a  dash  for  it,  it 
would  soon  be  closed  entirely. 

"  I  received  a  letter  this  morning,  Mr.  Flint,  enclosing 
me  an  annual  pass  —  " 

"  Did  Upjohn  send  you  one  ?  "  Mr.  Flint  cut  in  ;  "  he 
ought  to  have  done  so  long  ago.  It  was  probably  an 
oversight  that  he  did  not,  Mr.  Vane.  We  try  to  extend 
the  courtesies  of  the  road  to  persons  who  are  looked  up 
to  in  their  communities.  The  son  of  Hilary  Vane  is  at 
all  times  welcome  to  one." 

Mr.  Flint  paused  to  light  his  cigar,  and  Austen  sum 
moned  his  resolution.  Second  by  second  it  was  becoming 
more  and  more  difficult  and  seemingly  more  ungracious 
to  return  a  gift  so  graciously  given,  a  gift  of  no  inconsid 
erable  intrinsic  value.  Moreover,  Mr.  Flint  had  ingen 
iously  contrived  almost  to  make  the  act,  in  Austen's  eyes, 
that  of  a  picayune  upstart.  Who  was  he  to  fling  back  an 
annual  pass  in  the  face  of  the  president  of  the  Northeast 
ern  Railroads  ? 

"  I  had  first  thought  of  writing  you  a  letter,  Mr.  Flint," 
he  said,  "  but  it  seemed  to  me  that,  considering  your  re 
lations  with  my  father,  the  proper  thing  to  do  was  to 
come  to  you  and  tell  you  why  I  cannot  take  the  pass." 

The  thin  secretary  paused  in  his  filing,  and  remained 
motionless  with  his  body  bent  over  the  drawer. 

"  Why  you  cannot  take  it,  Mr.  Vane  ?  "  said  the  rail 
road  president.  "I'm  afraid  I  don't  understand." 

"  I  appreciate  the  —  the  kindness,"  said  Austen,  "  and 
I  will  try  to  explain."  He  drew  the  red  cardboard  from 
his  pocket  and  turned  it  over.  "  On  the  back  of  this  is 
printed,  in  small  letters,  fc  It  is  understood  that  this  pass 
is  accepted  by  the  recipient  as  a  retainer.' ' 

"  Well,"  Mr.  Flint  interrupted,  smiling  somewhat 
blandly,  "  how  much  money  do  you  think  that  pass 
would  save  an  active  young  lawyer  in  a  year  ?  Is  three 
hundred  dollars  too  much  ?  Three  hundred  dollars  is  not 


"TIMED   DANAOS"  43 

an  insignificant  sum  to  a  young  man  on  the  threshold  of 
his  practice,  is  it  ?  " 

Austen  looked  at  Mr.  Flint. 

"Any  sum  is  insignificant  when  it  restricts  a  lawyer 
from  the  acceptance  of  just  causes,  Mr.  Flint.  As  I  un 
derstand  the  matter,  it  is  the  custom  of  your  railroad  to 
send  these  passes  to  the  young  lawyers  of  the  State  the 
moment  they  begin  to  give  signs  of  ability.  This  pass 
would  prevent  me  from  serving  clients  who  might  have 
righteous  claims  against  your  railroads,  and  —  permit  me 
to  speak  frankly  —  in  my  opinion  the  practice  tends  to 
make  it  difficult  for  poor  people  who  have  been  injured  to 
get  efficient  lawyers." 

"  Your  own  father  is  retained  by  the  railroad,"  said  Mr. 
Flint. 

"  As  their  counsel,"  answered  Austen.  "  I  have  a  pride 
in  my  profession,  Mr.  Flint,  as  no  doubt  you  have  in 
yours.  If  I  should  ever  acquire  sufficient  eminence  to  be 
sought  as  counsel  for  a  railroad,  I  should  make  my  own 
terms  with  it.  I  should  not  allow  its  management  alone 
to  decide  upon  the  value  of  my  retainer,  and  my  services  in 
its  behalf  would  be  confined  strictly  to  professional  ones." 

Mr.  Flint  drummed  on  the  table. 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  that  ?  "  he  demanded. 

"  I  mean  that  I  would  not  engage,  for  a  fee  or  a  pass,  to 
fight  the  political  battles  of  a  railroad,  or  undertake  any 
political  manipulation  in  its  behalf  whatever." 

Mr.  Flint  leaned  forward  aggressively. 

"  How  long  do  you  think  a  railroad  would  pay  dividends 
if  it  did  not  adopt  some  means  of  defending  itself  from 
the  blackmail  politician  of  the  State  legislatures,  Mr.  Vane  ? 
The  railroads  of  which  I  have  the  honour  to  be  president 
pay  a  heavy  tax  in  this  and  other  States.  We  would  pay 
a  much  heavier  one  if  we  didn't  take  precautions  to  protect 
ourselves.  But  I  do  not  intend  to  quarrel  with  you,  Mr. 
Vane,"  he  continued  quickly,  perceiving  that  Austen  was 
about  to  answer  him,  "nor  do  I  wish  to  leave  you  with  the 
impression  that  the  Northeastern  Railroads  meddle  unduly 
in  politics." 


44  MR.    CREWE'S   CAREER 

Austen  knew  not  how  to  answer.  He  had  not  gone  there 
to  discuss  this  last  arid  really  great  question  with  Mr. 
Flint,  but  he  wondered  whether  the  president  actually 
thought  him  the  fledgling  he  proclaimed.  Austen  laid  his 
pass  on  Mr.  Flint's  desk,  and  rose. 

"  I  assure  you,  Mr.  Flint,  that  the  spirit  which  prompted 
my  visit  was  not  a  contentious  one.  I  cannot  accept  the 
pass,  simply  because  I  do  not  wish  to  be  retained." 

Mr.  Flint  eyed  him.  There  was  a  mark  of  dignity,  of 
silent  power,  on  this  tall  scapegrace  of  a  son  of  Hilary  Vane 
that  the  railroad  president  had  missed  at  first — -probably 
because  he  had  looked  only  for  the  scapegrace.  Mr.  Flint 
ardently  desired  to  treat  the  matter  in  the  trifling  aspect 
in  which  he  believed  he  saw  it,  to  carry  it  off  genially. 
But  an  instinct  not  yet  formulated  told  the  president  that 
he  was  face  to  face  with  an  enemy  whose  potential  powers 
were  not  to  be  despised,  and  he  bristled  in  spite  of  himself. 

"  There  is  no  statute  I  know  of  by  which  a  lawj^er  can 
be  compelled  to  accept  a  retainer  against  his  will,  Mr.  Vane," 
he  replied,  and  overcame  himself  with  an  effort.  "  But  I 
hope  that  you  will  permit  me,"  he  added  in  another  tone, 
"  as  an  old  friend  of  your  father's  and  as  a  man  of  some 
little  experience  in  the  world,  to  remark  that  intolerance  is 
a  characteristic  of  youth.  I  had  it  in  the  days  of  Mr.  Isaac 
D.  Worthington,  whom  you  do  not  remember.  I  am  not 
addicted  to  flattery,  but  I  hope  and  believe  you  have  a 
career  before  you.  Talk  to  your  father.  Study  the  question 
on  both  sides,  —  from  the  point  of  view  of  men  who  are 
honestly  trying,  in  the  face  of  tremendous  difficulties,  to 
protect  innocent  stockholders  as  well  as  to  conduct  a  cor 
poration  in  the  interests  of  the  people  at  large,  and  for 
their  general  prosperity.  Be  charitable,  young  man,  and 
judge  not  hastily." 

Years  before,  when  poor  Sarah  Austen  had  adorned  the 
end  of  his  table,  Hilary  Vane  had  raised  his  head  after 
the  pronouncement  of  grace  to  surprise  a  look  in  his  wife's 
eyes  which  strangely  threw  him  into  a  white  heat  of  anger. 
That  look  (and  he  at  intervals  had  beheld  it  afterwards)  was 
the  true  presentment  of  the  soul  of  the  woman  whose  body 


"TIMEO   DAN  ACS"  45 

was  his.  It  was  not  —  as  Hilary  Vane  thought  it  —  a 
contempt  for  the  practice  of  thanking  one's  Maker  for 
daily  bread,  but  a  contempt  for  cant  of  one  who  sees  the 
humour  in  cant.  A  masculine  version  of  that  look  Mr. 
Flint  now  beheld  in  the  eyes  of  Austen  Vane,  and  the 
enraging  effect  on  the  president  of  the  United  Railroads 
was  much  the  same  as  it  had  been  on  his  chief  counsel. 
Who  was  this  young  man  of  three  and  thirty  to  agitate 
him  so  ?  He  trembled,  though  not  visibly,  yet  took 
Austen's  hand  mechanically. 

"  Good  day,  Mr.  Vane,"  he  said ;  "  Mr.  Freeman  will 
help  you  to  find  your  horse." 

The  thin  secretary  bowed,  and  before  he  reached  the 
door  into  the  passage  Mr.  Flint  had  opened  another  at  the 
back  of  the  room  and  stepped  out  on  a  close-cropped  lawn 
flooded  with  afternoon  sunlight.  In  the  passage  Austen 
perceived  a  chair,  and  in  the  chair  was  seated  patiently 
none  other  than  Mr.  Brush  Bascom — political  Duke  of 
Putnam.  Mr.  Bascom's  little  agate  eyes  glittered  in  the 
dim  light. 

"  Hello,  Austen,"  he  said,  "  since  when  have  you  took 
to  comin'  here  ?  " 

"  It's  a  longer  trip  from  Putnam  than  from  Ripton, 
Brush,"  said  Austen,  and  passed  on,  leaving  Mr.  Bascom 
with  a  puzzled  mind.  Something  very  like  a  smile  passed 
over  Mr.  Freeman's  face  as  he  led  the  way  silently  out  of 
a  side  entrance  and  around  the  house.  The  circle  of  the 
drive  was  empty,  the  tea-party  had  gone  —  and  Victoria. 
Austen  assured  himself  that  her  disappearance  relieved 
him;  having  virtually  quarrelled  with  her  father,  conversa 
tion  would  have  been  awkward;  and  yet  he  looked  for 
her. 

They  found  the  buggy  and  Pepper  in  the  paved  court 
yard  of  the  stables.     As  Austen  took  the  reins  the  sec 
retary  looked  up  at  him,  his  mild  blue  eyes  burning  with 
an  unsuspected  fire.      He  held  out  his  hand. 
"I  want  to  congratulate  you,"  he  said. 
"  What  for  ?  "  asked  Austen,  taking  the  hand  in  some 
embarrassment. 


46  MR.   CREWE'S  CAREER 

"  For  speaking  like  a  man,"  said  the  secretary,  and 
he  turned  on  his  heel  and  left  him. 

This  strange  action,  capping,  as  it  did,  a  stranger  ex 
perience,  gave  Austen  food  for  thought  as  he  let  Pepper 
take  his  own  pace  down  the  trade's  road.  Presently  he 
got  back  into  the  main  drive  where  it  clung  to  a  steep, 
forest-covered  side  hill,  when  his  attention  was  distracted 
by  the  sight  of  a  straight  figure  in  white  descending 
amidst  the  foliage  ahead.  His  instinctive  action  was  to 
pull  Pepper  down  to  a  walk,  scarcely  analyzing  his  motives; 
then  he  had  time,  before  reaching  the  spot  where  their 
paths  would  cross,  to  consider  and  characteristically  to 
enjoy  the  unpropitious  elements  arrayed  against  a  friend 
ship  with  Victoria  Flint. 

She  halted  on  a  flagstone  of  the  descending  path  some 
six  feet  above  the  roadway,  and  stood  expectant.  The 
Rose  of  Sharon,  five  and  twenty  years  before,  would  have 
been  coy  —  would  have  made  believe  to  have  done  it  by 
accident.  But  the  Rose  of  Sharon,  with  all  her  beauty, 
would  have  had  no  attraction  for  Austen  Vane.  Victoria 
had  much  of  her  mother's  good  looks,  the  figure  of  a 
Diana,  and  her  clothes  were  of  a  severity  and  correctness 
in  keeping  with  her  style ;  they  merely  added  to  the  sum 
total  of  the  effect  upon  Austen.  Of  course  he  stopped 
the  buggy  immediately  beneath  her,  and  her  first  question 
left  him  without  any  breath.  No  woman  he  had  ever 
known  seized  the  essentials  as  she  did. 

"  What  have  you  been  doing  to  my  father  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Why  ?  "  exclaimed  Austen. 

"  Because  he's  in  such  a  bad  temper,"  said  Victoria. 
"  You  must  havfc  put  him  in  it.  It  can't  be  possible  that 
you  came  all  the  way  up  here  to  quarrel  with  him.  No 
body  ever  dares  to  quarrel  with  him." 

"  I  didn't  come  up  to  quarrel  with  him,"  said 
Austen. 

"  What's  the  trouble  ?  "     asked  Victoria.    . 

The  humour  of  this  question  was  too  much  for  him, 
and  he  laughed.  Victoria's  eyes  laughed  a  little,  but 
there  was  a  pucker  in  her  forehead. 


"TIMEO   DANAOS"  47 

"  Won't  you  tell  me  ?  "  she  demanded,  "  or  must  I  get 
it  out  of  him  ?  " 

"  I  am  afraid,"  said  Austen,  slowly,  "  that  you  must  get 
it  out  of  him  —  if  he  hasn't  forgotten  it." 

"  Forgotten  it,  dear  old  soul !  "  cried  Victoria.  "  I  met 
him  just  now  and  tried  to  make  him  look  at  the  new 
Guernseys,  and  he  must  have  been  disturbed  quite  a  good 
deal  when  he's  cross  as  a  bear  to  me.  He  really  oughtn't 
to  be  upset  like  that,  Mr.  Vane,  when  he  comes  up  here  to 
rest.  I  am  afraid  that  you  are  rather  a  terrible  person, 
although  you  look  so  nice.  Won't  you  tell  me  what  you 
did  to  him  ?  " 

Austen  was  nonplussed. 

"  Nothing  intentional,"  he  answered  earnestly,  "  but  it 
wouldn't  be  fair  to  your  father  if  I  gave  you  my  version 
,of  a  business  conversation  that  passed  between  us, — 
would  it  ?  " 

"Perhaps  not,"  said  Victoria.  She  sat  down  on  the 
flagstone  with  her  elbow  on  her  knee  and  her  chin  in  her 
hand,  and  looked  at  him  thoughtfully.  He  knew  well 
enough  that  a  wise  general  would  have  retreated  —  horse, 
foot,  and  baggage  ;  but  Pepper  did  not  stir. 

"Do  you  know,"  said  Victoria,  "I  have  an  idea  you 
came  up  here  about  Zeb  Header." 

«  Zeb  Meader  I  " 

"  Yes.  I  told  my  father  about  him, — how  you  rescued 
him,  and  how.  you  went  to  see  him  in  the  hospital,  and 
what  a  good  man  he  is,  and  how  poor." 

"  Oh,  did  you!  "  exclaimed  Austen. 

"Yes.  And  I  told  him  the  accident  wasn't  Zeb's 
fault,  that  the  train  didn't  whistle  or  ring,  and  that  the 
crossing  was  a  blind  one." 

"  And  what  did  he  say  ?  "  asked  Austen,  curiously. 

"  He  said  that  on  a  railroad  as  big  as  his  something  of 
the  kind  must  happen  occasionally.  And  he  told  me  if 
Zeb  didn't  make  a  fuss  and  act  foolishly,  he  would  have 
no  cause  to  regret  it." 

"  And  did  you  tell  Zeb  ?  "  asked  Austen. 

"  Yes,"  Victoria  admitted,  "  but  I'm  sorry  I  did,  now." 


48  MR.   CREWE'S  CAREER 

"  What  did  Zeb  say  ?  " 

Victoria  laughed  in  spite  of  herself,  and  gave  a  more 
or  less  exact  though  kindly  imitation  of  Mr.  Header's 
manner. 

"  He  said  that  wimmen-folks  had  better  stick  to  the 
needle  and  the  duster,  and  not  go  pokin'  about  law  busi 
ness  that  didn't  concern  'em.  But  the  worst  of  it  was," 
added  Victoria,  with  some  distress,  "  he  won't  accept  any 
more  fruit.  Isn't  he  silly  ?  He  won't  get  it  into  his  head 
that  I  give  him  the  fruit,  and  not  my  father.  I  suspect 
that  he  actually  believes  my  father  sent  me  down  there 
to  tell  him  that." 

Austen  was  silent,  for  the  true  significance  of  this 
apparently  obscure  damage  case  to  the  Northeastern  Rail 
roads  was  beginning  to  dawn  on  him.  The  public  was 
not  in  the  best  of  humours  towards  railroads:  there  was 
trouble  about  grade  crossings,  and  Mr.  Meader's  mishap 
and  the  manner  of  his  rescue  by  the  son  of  the  corpora 
tion  counsel  had  given  the  accident  a  deplorable  pub 
licity.  Moreover,  if  it  had  dawned  on  Augustus  Flint 
that  the  son  of  Hilary  Vane  might  prosecute  the  suit,  it 
was  worth  while  taking  a  little  pains  with  Mr.  Meader  — 
and  Mr.  Austen  Vane.  Certain  small  fires  have  been 
known  to  light  world-wide  conflagrations. 

"  What  are  you  thinking  about  ?  "  asked  Victoria.  "  It 
isn't  at  all  polite  to  forget  the  person  you  are  talking  to." 

"  I  haven't  forgotten  you,"  said  Austen,  with  a  smile. 
How  could  he  —  sitting  under  her  in  this  manner  ? 

"Besides,"  said  Victoria,  mollified,  "you  haven't  an 
swered  my  question." 

"  Which  question  ?  " 

She  scrutinized  him  thoughtfully,  and  with  feminine  art 
made  the  kind  of  an  attack  that  rarely  fails. 

"  Why  are  you  such  an  enigma,  Mr.  Vane  ? "  she  de 
manded.  u  Is  it  because  you're  a  lawyer,  or  because  you've 
been  out  West  and  seen  so  much  of  life  and  shot  so  many 
people  ?  " 

Austen  laughed,  yet  he  had  tingling  symptoms  because 
she  showed  enough  interest  in  him  to  pronounce  him  a 


"TIMEO   DANAOS"  49 

riddle.  But  he  instantly  became  serious  as  the  purport  of 
the  last  charge  came  home  to  him. 

"  I  suppose  I  am  looked  upon  as  a  sort  of  Jesse  James," 
he  said.  "As  it  happens,  I  have  never  shot  but  one 
man,  and  I  didn't  care  very  much  for  that." 

Victoria  got  up  and  came  down  a  step  and  gave  him 
her  hand.  He  took  it,  nor  was  he  the  first  to  relinquish 
the  hold ;  and  a  colour  rose  delicately  in  her  face  as  she 
drew  her  fingers  away. 

"  I  didn't  mean  to  offend  you,"  she  said. 

"  You  didn't  offend  me,"  he  replied  quickly.  "  I  merely 
wished  you  to  know  that  I  wasn't  a  brigand." 

Victoria  smiled. 

"  I  really  didn't  think  so — you  are  much  too  solemn.  I 
have  to  go  now,  and  —  you  haven't  told  me  anything." 

She  crossed  the  road  and  began  to  descend  the  path  on 
the  other  side.  Twice  he  glanced  back,  after  he  had 
started,  and  once  surprised  her  poised  lightly  among  the 
leaves,  looking  over  her  shoulder. 


CHAPTER  V 

THE  PARTING   OF   THE   WAYS 

THE  next  time  Austen  visited  the  hospital  Mr.  Header 
had  a  surprise  in  store  for  him.  After  passing  the  time 
of  day,  as  was  his  custom,  the  patient  freely  discussed  the 
motives  which  had  led  him  to  refuse  any  more  of  Victoria's 
fruit. 

"  I  hain't  got  nothing  against  7^r,"  he  declared ;  "I  tried 
to  make  that  plain.  She's  as  nice  and  common  a  young 
lady  as  I  ever  see,  and  I  don't  believe  she  had  a  thing  to 
do  with  it.  But  I  suspicioned  they  was  up  to  somethin' 
when  she  brought  them  baskets.  And  when  she  give  me 
the  message  from  old  Flint,  I  was  sure  of  it." 

"  Miss  Flint  was  entirely  innocent,  I'm  sure,"  said 
Austen,  emphatically. 

"  If  I  could  see  old  Flint,  I'd  tell  him  what  I  thought 
of  him  usin'  wimmen-folks  to  save  'em  money,"  said  Mr. 
Meader.  "I  knowed  she  wahn't  that  kind.  And  then 
that  other  thing  come  right  on  top  of  it." 

"What  other  thing?" 

"Say,"  demanded  Mr.  Meader,  "don't  you  know?" 

"I  know  nothing,"  said  Austen. 

"  Didn't  know  Hilary  Vane's  be'n  here  ?  " 

"  My  father  !  "  Austen  ejaculated. 

"  Gittin'  after  me  pretty  warm,  so  they  be.  Want  to 
know  what  my  price  is  now.  But  say,  I  didn't  suppose 
your  fayther'd  come  here  without  lettin'  you  know." 

Austen  was  silent.  The  truth  was  that  for  a  few 
moments  he  could  not  command  himself  sufficiently  to 
speak. 

"  He  is  the  chief  counsel  for  the  road,"  he  said  at  length  ; 
*'  I  am  not  connected  with  it." 

50 


THE  PARTING   OF  THE  WAYS  51 

"  I  guess  you're  on  the  right  track.  He's  a  pretty 
smooth  talker,  your  fayther.  Just  dropped  in  to  see  how 
I  be,  since  his  son  was  interested.  Talked  a  sight  of  law 
gibberish  I  didn't  understand.  Told  me  I  didn't  have 
much  of  a  case  ;  said  the  policy  of  the  railrud  was  to  be 
liberal,  and  wanted  to  know  what  I  thought  I  ought  to 
have." 

"  Well  ?  "  said  Austen,  shortly. 

"Well,"  said  Mr.  Header,  uhe  didn't  git  a  mite  of 
satisfaction  out  of  me.  I've  seen  enough  of  his  kind  of 
folks  to  know  how  to  deal  with  'em,  and  I  told  him  so. 
I  asked  him  what  they  meant  by  sending  that  slick  Mr. 
Tooting  'raound  to  offer  me  five  hundred  dollars.  I  said  I 
was  willin'  to  trust  my  case  on  that  crossin'  to  a  jury." 

Austen  smiled,  in  spite  of  his  mingled  emotions. 

"  What  else  did  Mr.  Vane  say  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Not  a  great  sight  more.  Said  a  good  many  folks 
were  foolish  enough  to  spend  money  and  go  to  law  when 
they'd  done  better  to  trust  to  the  liberality  of  the  railrud. 
Liberality  !  Adams'  widow  done  well  to  trust  their 
liberality,  didn't  she  ?  He  wanted  to  know  one  more 
thing,  but  I  didn't  give  him  any  satisfaction." 

"What  was  that?" 

"  I  couldn't  tell  you  how  he  got  'raound  to  it.  Guess 
he  never  did,  quite.  He  wanted  to  know  what  lawyer  was 
to  have  my  case.  Wahn't  none  of  his  affair,  and  I  callated 
if  you'd  wanted  him  to  know  just  yet,  you'd  have  told 
him." 

Austen  laid  his  hand  on  the  farmer's,  as  he  rose  to  go. 

"  Zeb,"  he  said,  "  I  never  expect  to  have  a  more  ex 
emplary  client." 

Mr.  Meader  shot  a  glance  at  him. 

"Mebbe  I  spoke  a  mite  too  free  about  your  tayther, 
Austen,"  he  said  ;  "you  and  him  seem  kind  of  different." 

"  The  Judge  and  I  understand  each  other,"  answered 
Austen. 

He  had  got  as  far  as  the  door,  when  he  stopped,  swung 
on  his  heel,  and  came  back  to  the  bedside. 

"  It's  my  duty  to  tell  you,  Zeb,  that  in  order  to  hush 


52  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

this  thing  up  they  may  offer  you  more  than  you  can  get 
from  a  jury.  In  that  case  I  should  have  to  advise  you  to 
accept." 

He  was  aware  that,  while  he  made  this  statement,  Zeb 
Header's  eyes  were  riveted  on  him,  arid  he  knew  that  the 
farmer  was  weighing  him  in  the  balance. 

"Sell  out?"  exclaimed  Mr.  Meader.  "You  advise  me 
to  sell  out?" 

Austen  did  not  get  angry.  He  understood  this  man 
and  the  people  from  which  he  sprang. 

"  The  question  is  for  you  to  decide  —  whether  you  can 
get  more  money  by  a  settlement." 

"  Money !  "  cried  Zeb  Meader,  "  I  have  found  it  pretty 
hard  to  git,  but  there's  some  things  I  won't  do  for  it. 
There's  a  reason  why  they  want  this  case  hushed  up,  the 
way  they've  be'n  actin'.  I  ain't  lived  in  Mercer  and  Put 
nam  County  all  my  life  for  nothin'.  Hain't  I  seen  'em  run 
their  dirty  politics  there  under  Brush  Bascom  for  the  last 
twenty-five  years?  There's  no  man  has  an  office  or  a  pass 
in  that  county  but  what  Bascom  gives  it  to  him,  and  Bas- 
com's  the  railrud  tool."  Suddenly  Zeb  raised  himself  in 
bed.  "  Hev'  they  be'n  tamperin'  with  you  ?  "  he  demanded. 

"  Yes,"  answered  Austen,  dispassionately.  He  had 
hardly  heard  what  Zeb  had  said ;  his  mind  had  been  going 
onward.  "  Yes.  They  sent  me  an  annual  pass,  and  I  took 
it  back." 

Zeb  Meader  did  not  speak  for  a  few  moments. 

"  I  guess  I  was  a  little  hasty,  Austen,"  he  said  at  length. 
"  I  might  have  known  you  wouldn't  sell  out.  If  you're 
willin'  to  take  the  risk,  you  tell  'em  ten  thousand  dollars 
wouldn't  tempt  me." 

"  All  right,  Zeb,"  said  Austen. 

He  left  the  hospital  and  struck  out  across  the  country 
towards  the  slopes  of  Sawanec,  climbed  them,  and  stood 
bareheaded  in  the  evening  light,  gazing  over  the  still,  wide 
valley  northward  to  the  wooded  ridges  where  Leith  and 
Fairview  lay  hidden.  He  had  come  to  the  parting  of  the 
ways  of  life,  and  while  he  did  not  hesitate  to  choose  his 
path,  a  Vane  inheritance,  though  not  dominant,  could  not 


THE   PARTING   OF  THE  WAYS  53 

fail  at  such  a  juncture  to  point  out  the  pleasantness  of 
conformity.  Austen's  affection  for  Hilary  Vane  was  real ; 
the  loneliness  of  the  elder  man  appealed  to  the  son,  who 
knew  that  his  father  loved  him  in  his  own  way.  He  dreaded 
the  wrench  there. 

And  nature,  persuasive  in  that  quarter,  was  not  to  be 
stilled  in  a  field  more  completely  her  own.  The  memory 
and  suppliance  of  a  minute  will  scarce  suffice  one  of 
Austen's  temperament  for  a  lifetime ;  and  his  eyes,  flying 
with  the  eagle  high  across  the  valley,  searched  the  velvet 
folds  of  the  ridges,  as  they  lay  in  infinite  shades  of  green  in 
the  level  light,  for  the  place  where  the  enchanted  realm  might 
be.  Just  what  the  state  of  his  feelings  were  at  this  time 
towards  Victoria  Flint  is  too  vague  accurately  to  be  painted, 
but  he  was  certainly  riot  ready  to  give  way  to  the  attraction 
he  felt  for  her.  His  sense  of  humour  intervened  if  he 
allowed  himself  to  dream  ;  there  was  a  certain  folly  in 
pursuing  the  acquaintance,  all  the  greater  now  that  he 
was  choosing  the  path  of  opposition  to  the  dragon.  A 
young  woman,  surrounded  as  she  was,  could  be  ex 
pected  to  know  little  of  the  subtleties  of  business  and 
political  morality:  let  him  take  Zeb  Header's  case,  and  her 
loyalty  would  naturally  be  with  her  father, — if  she  thought 
of  Austen  Vane  at  all. 

And  yet  the  very  contradiction  of  her  name,  Victoria 
joined  with  Flint,  seemed  to  proclaim  that  she  did  not  belong 
to  her  father  or  to  the  Rose  of  Sharon.  Austen  permitted 
himself  to  dwell,  as  he  descended  the  mountain  in  the 
gathering  darkness,  upon  the  fancy  of  the  springing  of  a 
generation  of  ideals  from  a  generation  of  commerce  which 
boded  well  for  the  Republic.  And  Austen  Vane,  in 
common  with  that  younger  and  travelled  generation, 
thought  largely  in  terms  of  the  Republic.  Pepper  County 
and  Putnam  County  were  all  one  to  him — pieces  of  his  na 
tive  land.  And  as  such,  redeemable. 

It  was  long  past  the  supper  hour  when  he  reached  the 
house  in  Hanover  Street ;  but  Euphrasia,  who  many  a  time 
in  days  gone  by  had  fared  forth  into  the  woods  to  find 
Sarah  Austen,  had  his  supper  hot  for  him.  Afterwards  he 


54  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

lighted  his  pipe  and  went  out  into  the  darkness,  and 
presently  perceived  a  black  figure  seated  meditatively  on 
the  granite  doorstep. 

"  Is  that  you,  Judge  ?  "  said  Austen. 

The  Honourable  Hilary  grunted  in  response. 

"  Be'n  on  another  wild  expedition,  I  suppose." 

"'I  went  up  Sawanec  to  stretch  my  legs  a  little,"  Austen 
answered,  sitting  down  beside  his  father. 

"Funny,"  remarked  the  Honourable  Hilary,  "I  never 
had  this  mania  for  stretchin'  my  legs  after  I  was  grown." 

"  Well,"  said  Austen,  "  I  like  to  go  into  the  woods  and 
climb  the  hills  and  get  aired  out  once  in  a  while." 

"I  heard  of  your  gettin'  aired  out  yesterday,  up  Tun- 
bridge  way,"  said  the  Honourable  Hilary. 

"  I  supposed  you  would  hear  of  it,"  answered  Austen. 

"  I  was  up  there  to-day.  Gave  Mr.  Flint  your  pass  — 
did  you  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"Didn't  see  fit  to  mention  it  tome  first  —  did  you? 
Said  you  were  going  up  to  thank  him  for  it." 

Austen  considered  this. 

"  You  have  put  me  in  the  wrong,  Judge,"  he  replied 
after  a  little.  "  I  made  that  remark  ironically.  I  —  I  am 
afraid  we  cannot  agree  on  the  motive  which  prompted  me." 

"  Your  conscience  a  little  finer  than  your  father's  —  is 
it?" 

"  No,"  said  Austen,  "  I  don't  honestly  think  it  is.  I've 
thought  a  good  deal  in  the  last  few  years  about  the  dif 
ference  in  our  ways  of  looking  at  things.  I  believe  that 
two  men  who  try  to  be  honest  may  conscientiously  differ. 
But  I  also  believe  that  certain  customs  have  gradually 
grown  up  in  railroad  practice  which  are  more  or  less  to 
be  deplored  from  the  point  of  view  of  the  honour  of  the 
profession.  I  think  they  are  not  perhaps  —  realized  even 
by  the  eminent  men  in  the  law." 

"Humph!  "  said  the  Honourable  Hilary.  But  he  did 
not  press  his  son  for  the  enumeration  of  these  customs. 
After  all  the  years  he  had  disapproved  of  Austen's  deeds 
it  seemed  strange  indeed  to  be  called  to  account  by  the 


THE   PARTING   OF  THE  WAYS  55 

prodigal  for  his  own.  Could  it  be  that  this  boy  whom  he 
had  so  often  chastised  took  a  clearer  view  of  practical 
morality  than  himself?  It  was  preposterous.  But  why 
the  uneasiness  of  the  past  few  years  ?  Why  had  he  more 
than  once  during  that  period,  for  the  first  time  in  his  life, 
questioned  a  hitherto  absolute  satisfaction  in  his  position 
of  chief  counsel  for  the  Northeastern  Railroads  ?  Why 
had  he  hesitated  to  initiate  his  son  into  many  of  the  so- 
called  duties  of  a  railroad  lawyer?  Austen  had  never 
verbally  arraigned  those  duties  until  to-night. 

Contradictory  as  it  may  seem,  irritating  as  it  was  to  the 
Honourable  Hilary  Vane,  he  experienced  again  the  certain 
faint  tingling  of  pride  as  when  Austen  had  given  him  the 
dispassionate  account  of  the  shooting  of  Mr.  Blodgett ; 
and  this  tingling  only  served  to  stiffen  Hilary  Vane  more 
than  ever.  A  lifelong  habit  of  admitting  nothing  and 
a  lifelong  pride  made  the  acknowledgment  of  possible 
professional  lapses  for  the  benefit  of  his  employer  not  to 
be  thought  of.  He  therefore  assumed  the  same  attitude 
as  had  Mr.  Flint,  and  forced  the  burden  of  explanation 
upon  Austen,  relying  surely  on  the  disinclination  of  his 
son  to  be  specific.  And  Austen,  considering  his  relation 
ship,  could  not  be  expected  to  fathom  these  mental  pro 
cesses. 

"  See  here,  Judge,"  he  said,  greatly  embarrassed  by  the 
real  affection  he  felt,  "  I  don't  want  to  seem  like  a  prig  and 
appear  to  be  sitting  in  judgment  upon  a  man  of  your  ex 
perience  and  position  —  especially  since  I  have  the  honour 
to  be  your  son,  and  have  made  a  good  deal  of  trouble 
by  a  not  irreproachable  existence.  Since  we  have  begun 
on  the  subject,  however,  I  think  I  ought  to  tell  you  that 
I  have  taken  the  case  of  Zeb  Meader  against  the  North 
eastern  Railroads." 

"  Wahn't  much  need  of  telling  me,  was  there  ?  "  remarked 
the  Honourable  Hilary,  dryly.  "  I'd  have  found  it  out  as 
soon  as  anybody  else." 

"  There  was  this  need  of  telling  you,"  answered  Austen, 
steadily,  "  although  I  am  not  in  partnership  with  you,  I 
bear  your  name.  And  inasmuch  as  I  am  to  have  a  suit 


56  MR.   CREWE'S  CAREER 

against  your  client,  it  has  occurred  to  me  that  you  would 
like  me  to  move  —  elsewhere." 

The  Honourable  Hilary  was  silent  for  a  long  time. 

"  Want  to  move  —  do  you  ?     Is  that  it  ?  " 

"Only  because  iny  presence  may  embarrass  you." 

"  That  wahn't  in  the  contract,"  said  the  Honourable 
Hilary;  "you've  got  a  right  to  take  any  fool  cases  you've 
a  mind  to.  Folks'll  know  pretty  well  I'm  not  mixed  up 
in  'em." 

Austen  did  not  smile;  he  could  well  understand  his 
father's  animus  in  this  matter.  As  he  looked  up  at  the 
gable  of  his  old  home  against  the  stars,  he  did  not  find 
the  next  sentence  any  easier. 

"  And  then,"  he  continued,  "  in  taking  a  course  so 
obviously  against  your  wishes  and  judgment  it  occurred  t@ 
me  —  well,  that  I  was  eating  at  your  table  and  sleeping 
in  your  house." 

To  his  son's  astonishment,  Hilary  Vane  turned  on  him 
almost  truculently. 

"  I  thought  the  time'd  come  when  you'd  want  to  go  off 
again,  —  gypsying,"  he  cried. 

"  I'd  stay  right  here  in  Ripton,  Judge.  I  believe  my 
work  is  in  this  State." 

The  Honourable  Hilary  could  see  through  a  millstone 
with  a  hole  in  it.  The  effect  of  Austen's  assertion  on  him 
was  a  declaration  that  the  mission  of  the  one  was  to  tear 
down  what  the  other  had  so  laboriously  built  up.  And 
yet  a  growing  dread  of  Hilary  Vane's  had  been  the  loneli 
ness  of  declining  years  in  that  house  should  Austen  leave 
it  again,  never  to  return. 

"  I  knew  you  had  this  Meader  business  in  mind,"  he 
said.  "I  knew  you  had  fanciful  notions  about  —  some 
things.  Never  told  you  I  didn't  want  you  here,  did  I  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Austen,  "  but  —  " 

"  Would  have  told  you  if  I  hadn't  wanted  you  — • 
wouldn't  I?" 

"  I  hope  so,  Judge,"  said  Austen,  who  understood  some 
thing  of  the  feeling  which  underlay  this  brusqueness. 
That  knowledge  made  matters  all  the  harder  for  him. 


THE  PARTING   OF  THE  WAYS  57 

"  It  was  your  mother's  house  —  you're  entitled  to  that, 
anyway,"  said  the  Honourable  Hilary,  "  but  what  I  want 
to  know  is,  why  you  didn't  advise  that  eternal  fool  of  a 
Header  to  accept  what  we  offered  him.  You'll  never  get 
a  county  jury  to  give  as  much." 

"  I  did  advise  him  to  accept  it,"  answered  Austen. 

"  What's  the  matter  with  him  ?  "  the  Honourable  Hilary 
demanded. 

"  Well,  Judge,  if  you  really  want  my  opinion,  an  honest 
farmer  like  Meader  is  suspicious  of  any  corporation  which 
has  such  zealous  and  loyal  retainers  as  Ham  Tooting  and 
Brush  Bascom."  And  Austen  thought  with  a  return  of  the 
pang  which  had  haunted  him  at  intervals  throughout  the 
afternoon,  that  he  might  almost  have  added  to  these  names 
that  of  Hilary  Vane.  Certainly  Zeb  Meader  had  not  spared 
his  father. 

"  Life,"  observed  the  Honourable  Hilary,  unconsciously 
using  a  phrase  from  the  "  Book  of  Arguments,"  "  is  a  sur 
vival  of  the  fittest." 

"  How  do  you  define  '  the  fittest '  ? "  asked  Austen. 
"  Are  they  the  men  who  have  the  not  unusual  and  certainly 
not  very  exalted  gift  of  getting  money  from  their  fellow- 
creatures  by  the  use  of  any  and  all  weapons  that  may 
be  at  hand?  who  believe  the  acquisition  of  wealth  to  be 
exempt  from  the  practice  of  morality  ?  Is  Mr.  Flint  your 
example  of  the  fittest  type  to  exist  and  survive,  or  Glad 
stone  or  Wilberforce  or  Emerson  or  Lincoln  ?  " 

"Emerson!"  cried  the  Honourable  Hilary,  the  name 
standing  out  in  red  letters  before  his  eyes.  He  had  never 
read  a  line  of  the  philosopher's  writings,  not  even  the 
charge  to  "  hitch  your  wagon  to  a  star"  (not  in  the  "  Book 
of  Arguments").  Sarah  Austen  had  read  Emerson  in  the 
woods,  and  her  son's  question  sounded  so  like  the  unin 
telligible  but  unanswerable  flashes  with  which  the  wife 
had  on  rare  occasions  opposed  the  husband's  authority 
that  Hilary  Vane  found  his  temper  getting  the  best 
of  him.  The  name  of  Emerson  was  immutably  fixed 
in  his  mind  as  the  synonym  for  incomprehensible,  foolish 
habits  and  beliefs.  "  Don't  talk  Emerson  to  me,"  he 


58  MR.    CREWE'S   CAREER 

exclaimed.  "  And  as  for  Brush  Bascom,  I've  known  him 
for  thirty  years,  and  he's  done  as  much  for  the  Republican 
party  as  any  man  in  this  State." 

This  vindication  of  Mr.  Bascom  naturally  brought  to  a 
close  a  conversation  which  had  already  continued  too  long. 
The  Honourable  Hilary  retired  to  rest ;  but  —  if  Austen 
had  known  it  —  not  to  sleep  until  the  small  hours  of  the 
morning. 

It  was  not  until  the  ensuing  spring  that  the  case  of  Mr. 
Zebulun  Meader  against  the  United  Northeastern  Railroads 
came  up  for  trial  in  Bradford,  the  county-seat  of  Putnam 
County,  and  we  do  not  wish  to  appear  to  give  it  too  great 
a  weight  in  the  annals  of  the  State.  For  one  thing,  the 
weekly  newspapers  did  not  mention  it;  and  Mr.  Paul 
Pardriff,  when  urged  to  give  an  account  of  the  proceedings 
in  the  Ripton  Record,  said  it  was  a  matter  of  no  impor 
tance,  and  spent  the  afternoon  writing  an  editorial  about 
the  domestic  habits  of  the  Aztecs.  Mr.  Pardriff,  however, 
had  thought  the  matter  of  sufficient  interest  personally  to 
attend  the  trial,  and  for  the  journey  he  made  use  of  a 
piece  of  green  cardboard  which  he  habitually  carried  in 
his  pocket.  The  editor  of  the  Bradford  Champion  did  not 
have  to  use  his  yellow  cardboard,  yet  his  columns  may  be 
searched  in  vain  for  the  event. 

Not  that  it  was  such  a  great  event,  —  one  of  hundreds 
of  railroad  accidents  that  come  to  court.  The  son  of  Hilary 
Vane  was  the  plaintiff's  counsel;  and  Mr.  Meader,  although 
he  had  not  been  able  to  work  since  his  release  from  the 
hospital,  had  been  able  to  talk,  and  the  interest  taken  in 
the  case  by  the  average  neglected  citizen  in  Putnam  proved 
that  the  weekly  newspaper  is  not  the  only  disseminator  of 
news. 

The  railroad's  side  of  the  case  was  presented  by  that 
genial  and  able  practitioner  of  Putnam  County,  Mr. 
Nathaniel  Billings,  who  travelled  from  his  home  in  Will- 
iamstowii  by  the  exhibition  of  a  red  ticket.  Austen  Vane 
had  to  pay  his  own  way  from  Ripton,  but  as  he  handed 
lack  the  mileage  book,  the  conductor  leaned  over  and 
whispered  something  in  his  ear  that  made  him  smile,  and 


THE   PARTING   OF  THE  WAYS  59 

Austen  thought  he  would  rather  have  that  little  drop  of 
encouragement  than  a  pass.  And  as  he  left  the  car  at 
Bradford,  two  grizzled  and  hard-handed  individuals  arose 
and  wished  him  good  luck. 

He  needed  encouragement,  —  what  young  lawyer  does 
not  on  his  first  important  case  ?  And  he  did  not  like  to 
think  of  the  future  if  he  lost  this.  But  in  this  matter  he 
possessed  a  certain  self-confidence  which  arose  from  a  just 
and  righteous  anger  against  the  forces  opposing  him  and 
a  knowledge  of  their  tactics.  To  his  mind  his  client  was 
not  Zeb  Meader  alone,  but  the  host  of  victims  who  had 
been  maimed  and  bought  off  because  it  was  cheaper  than 
to  give  the  public  a  proper  protection. 

The  court  room  was  crowded.  Mr.  Zeb  Meader,  pale  but 
determined,  was  surrounded  by  a  knot  of  Mercer  neigh 
bours,  many  of  whom  were  witnesses.  The  agate  eyes  of 
Mr.  Brush  Bascom  flashed  from  the  audience,  and  Mr.  Nat 
Billings  bustled  forward  to  shake  Austen's  hand.  Nat  was 
one  of  those  who  called  not  infrequently  upon  the  Honour 
able  Hilary  in  Ripton,  and  had  sat  on  Austen's  little 
table. 

"  Glad  to  see  you,  Austen,"  he  cried,  so  that  the  people 
might  hear  ;  and  added,  in  a  confidentially  lower  tone, 
"  We  lawyers  understand  that  these  little  things  make  no 
difference,  eh  ?  " 

"  I'm  willing  to  agree  to  that  if  you  are,  Nat,"  Austen 
answered.  He  looked  at  the  lawyer's  fleshy  face,  blue- 
black  where  it  was  shaven,  and  at  Mr.  Billings'  shifty  eyes 
and  mouth,  which  its  muscles  could  not  quite  keep  in 
place.  Mr.  Billings  also  had  nicked  teeth.  But  he  did 
his  best  to  hide  these  obvious  disadvantages  by  a  Falstaf- 
fian  bonhomie,  —  for  Mr.  Billings  was  growing  stout. 

"  I  tried  it  once  or  twice,  my  friend,  when  I  was  younger. 
It's  noble,  but  it  don't  pay,"  said  Mr.  Billings,  still  con 
fidential.  "  Brush  is  sour  —  look  at  him.  But  I  under 
stand  how  you  feel.  I'm  the  kind  of  feller  that  speaks  out, 
and  what  I  can't  understand  is,  why  the  old  man  let  you 
get  into  it." 

"  He  knew  you  were  going  to  be  on  the  other  side,  Nat, 


60  MR.   CREWE'S  CAREER 

and  wanted  to  teach  me  a  lesson.  I  suppose  it  is  folly  to 
contest  a  case  where  the  Railroad  Commission  has  com 
pletely  exonerated  your  client,"  Austen  added  thought 
fully. 

Mr.  Billings'  answer  was  to  wink,  very  slowly,  with  one 
eye;  and  shortly  after  these  pleasantries  were  over,  the 
case  was  called.  A  fragrant  wind  blew  in  at  the  open 
windows,  and  Nature  outside  was  beginning  to  array  her- 
sslf  in  myriad  hues  of  green.  Austen  studied  the  jury,  and 
wondered  how  nrany  points  of  his  argument  he  could  re 
member,  but  when  he  had  got  to  his  feet  the  words  came 
to  him.  If  we  should  seek  an  emblem  for  King  David's 
smooth,  round  stone  which  he  flung  at  Goliath,  we  should 
call  it  the  truth  —  for  the  truth  never  fails  to  reach  the 
mark.  Austen's  opening  was  not  long,  his  words  simple 
and  not  dramatic,  but  he  seemed  to  charge  them  with 
something  of  the  same  magnetic  force  that  compelled 
people  to  read  and  believe  "  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin  "  and  the 
"  Song  of  the  Shirt."  Spectators  and  jury  listened 
intently. 

Some  twenty  witnesses  appeared  for  the  plaintiff,  all 
of  whom  declared  that  they  had  heard  neither  bell  nor 
whistle.  Most  of  these  witnesses  had  been  in  the  grove, 
two  or  three  in  the  train  ;  two,  residents  of  the  vicinity, 
testified  that  they  had  complained  to  the  Railroad  Com 
mission  about  that  crossing,  and  had  received  evasive  an 
swers  to  the  effect  that  it  was  the  duty  of  citizens  to  look 
out  for  themselves.  On  cross-examination  they  declared 
they  had  no  objection  to  grade  crossings  which  were 
properly  safeguarded ;  this  crossing  was  a  death-trap. 
(Stricken  out.)  Mr.  Billings  made  the  mistake  of  trying 
to  prove  that  one  of  these  farmers  —  a  clear-eyed,  full- 
chested  man  with  a  deep  voice  —  had  an  animus  against 
the  railroad  dating  from  a  controversy  concerning  the 
shipping  of  milk. 

"  I  have  an  animus,  your  Honour,"  said  the  witness, 
quietly.  "When  the  railrud  is  represented  by  the  kind 
of  politicians  we  have  in  Putnam,  it's  natural  I  should  — 
hain't  it?" 


THE   PARTING   OF  THE   WAYS  61 

This    answer,   although    stricken   out,   was    gleefully 
received. 

In  marked  contrast  to  the  earnestness  of  young  Mr. 
Vane,  who  then  rested,  Mr.  Billings  treated  the  affair 
from  the  standpoint  of  a  man  of  large  practice  who 
usually  has  more  weighty  matters  to  attend  to.  This 
was  so  comparatively  trivial  as  not  to  be  dignified  by  a 
serious  mien.  He  quoted  freely  from  the  "  Book  of  Ar 
guments,"  reminding  the  jury  of  the  debt  of  gratitude 
the  State  owed  to  the  Northeastern  Railroads  for  doing 
so  much  for  its  people  ;  and  if  they  were  to  eliminate 
all  grade  crossings,  there  would  be  no  dividends  for  the 
stockholders.  Besides,  the  law  was  that  the  State  should 
pay  half  when  a  crossing  was  eliminated,  and  the  State 
could  not  afford  it.  Austen  had  suggested,  in  his  open 
ing,  that  it  was  cheaper  for  the  railroad  as  well  as  the 
State  to  kill  citizens.  He  asked  permission  to  inquire  of 
the  learned  counsel  for  the  defence  by  what  authority  he 
declared  that  the  State  could  not  afford  to  enter  into  a 
policy  by  which  grade  crossings  would  gradually  be 
eliminated. 

"  Why,"  said  Mr.  Billings,  "  the  fact  that  all  bills  in 
troduced  to  this  end  never  get  out  of  committee." 

"  May  I  ask,"  said  Austen,  innocently,  "  who  has  been 
chairman  of  that  particular  committee  in  the  lower  House 
for  the  last  five  sessions  ?  " 

Mr.  Billings  was  saved  the  embarrassment  of  answering 
this  question  by  a  loud  voice  in  the  rear  calling  out:  — 

"Brush  Bascom!" 

A  roar  of  laughter  shook  the  court  room,  and  all  eyes 
were  turned  on  Brush,  who  continued  to  sit  uncon 
cernedly  with  his  legs  crossed  and  his  arm  over  the  back 
of  the  seat.  The  offender  was  put  out,  order  was  restored, 
and  Mr.  Billings  declared,  with  an  injured  air,  that  he 
failed  to  see  why  the  counsel  for  the  plaintiff  saw  fit  to 
impugn  Mr.  Bascom. 

"  I  merely  asked  a  question,"  said  Austen ;  "  far  be  it 
from  me  to  impugn  any  man  who  has  held  offices  in  the 
gift  of  the  people  for  the  last  twenty  years." 


62  MR.   CREWE'S  CAREER 

Another  gale  of  laughter  followed  this,  during  which 
Mr.  Billings  wriggled  his  mouth  and  gave  a  strong  im 
pression  that  such  tactics  and  such  levity  were  to  be 
deplored. 

For  the  defence,  the  engineer  and  fireman  both  swore 
that  the  bell  had  been  rung  before  the  crossing  was  reached. 
Austen  merely  inquired  whether  this  was  not  when  they 
had  left  the  station  at  North  Mercer,  two  miles  away. 
No,  it  was  nearer.  Pressed  to  name  the  exact  spot,  they 
could  only  conjecture,  but  near  enough  to  be  heard  on  the 
crossing.  Other  witnesses  —  among  them  several  pic 
nickers  in  the  grove  —  swore  that  they  had  heard  the  bell. 
One  of  these  Austen  asked  if  he  was  not  the  member  from 
Mercer  in  the  last  Legislature,  and  Mr.  Billings,  no  longer 
genial,  sprang  to  his  feet  with  an  objection. 

"  I  merely  wish  to  show,  your  Honour,"  said  Austen, 
"  that  this  witness  accepted  a  pass  from  the  Northeastern 
Railroads  when  he  went  to  the  Legislature,  and  that  he 
has  had  several  trip  passes  for  himself  and  his  family 
since." 

The  objection  was  not  sustained,  and  Mr.  Billings  noted 
an  exception. 

Another  witness,  upon  whose  appearance  the  audience 
tittered  audibly,  was  Dave  Skinner,  boss  of  Mercer.  He 
had  lived,  he  said,  in  the  town  of  Mercer  all  his  life,  and 
maintained  that  he  was  within  a  hundred  yards  of  the 
track  when  the  accident  occurred,  and  heard  the  bell  ring. 

"  Is  it  not  a  fact,"  said  Austen  to  this  witness,  "  that 
Mr.  Brush  Bascom  has  a  mortgage  on  your  farm?  " 

"  I  can  show,  your  Honour,"  Austen  continued,  when 
Mr.  Billings  had  finished  his  protest,  "  that  this  man  was 
on  his  way  to  Riverside  to  pay  his  quarterly  instal 
ment." 

Mr.  Bascom  was  not  present  at  the  afternoon  session. 
Mr.  Billings'  summing  up  was  somewhat  impassioned, 
and  contained  more  quotations  from  the  "  Book  of  Argu 
ments."  He  regretted,  he  said,  the  obvious  appeals  to 
prejudice  against  a  railroad  corporation  that  was  honestly 
trying  to  do  its  duty  —  yes,  and  more  than  its  duty. 


THE   PARTING   OF  THE   WAYS  63 

Misjudged,  misused,  even  though  friendless,  it  would  con 
tinue  to  serve  the  people.  So  noble,  indeed,  was  the  pic 
ture  which  Mr.  Billings'  eloquence  raised  up  that  his  voice 
shook  with  emotion  as  he  finished. 

In  the  opinion  of  many  of  the  spectators  Austen  Vane 
had  yet  to  learn  the  art  of  oratory.  He  might  with  pro 
priety  have  portrayed  the  suffering  and  loss  of  the  poor 
farmer  who  was  his  client;  he  merely  quoted  from  the 
doctor's  testimony  to  the  effect  that  Mr.  Meader  would 
never  again  be  able  to  do  physical  labour  of  the  sort  by 
which  he  had  supported  himself,  and  ended  up  by  calling 
the  attention  of  the  jury  to  the  photographs  and  plans  of 
the  crossing  he  had  obtained  two  days  after  the  accident, 
requesting  them  to  note  the  facts  that  the  public  highway, 
approaching  through  a  dense  forest  and  underbrush  at 
an  angle  of  thirty-three  degrees,  climbed  the  railroad  em 
bankment  at  that  point,  and  a  train  could  not  be  seen  until 
the  horse  was  actually  on  the  track. 

The  jury  was  out  five  minutes  after  the  judge's  charge, 
and  gave  Mr.  Zebulun  Meader  a  verdict  of  six  thousand 
dollars  and  costs,  —  a  popular  verdict,  from  the  evident 
approval  with  which  it  was  received  in  the  court  room. 
Quiet  being  restored,  Mr.  Billings  requested,  somewhat 
vehemently,  that  the  case  be  transferred  on  the  exceptions 
to  the  Supreme  Court,  that  the  stenographer  write  out 
the  evidence,  and  that  he  might  have  three  weeks  in  which 
to  prepare  a  draft.  This  was  granted. 

Zeb  Meader,  true  to  his  nature,  was  self-contained 
throughout  the  congratulations  he  received,  but  his  joy 
was  nevertheless  intense. 

"  You  shook  'em  up  good,  Austen,"  he  said,  making  his 
way  to  where  his  counsel  stood.  "  I  suspicioned  you'd  do 
it.  But  how  about  this  here  appeal?  " 

"  Billings  is  merely  trying  to  save  the  face  of  his  rail 
road,"  Austen  answered,  smiling.  "  He  hasn't  the  least 
notion  of  allowing  this  case  to  come  up  again  —  take  my 
word  for  it." 

"  I  guess  your  word's  good,"  said  Zeb.  "  And  I  want 
to  tell  you  one  thing,  as  an  old  man.  I've  been  talkin'  to 


64  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

Putnam  County  folks  some,  and  you  hain't  lost  nothin'  by 
this." 

"  How  am  I  to  get  along  without  the  friendship  of  Brush 
Bascom  ?  "  asked  Austen,  soberly. 

Mr.  Header,  who  had  become  used  to  this  mild  sort  of 
humour,  relaxed  sufficiently  to  laugh. 

"  Brush  did  seem  a  mite  disgruntled,"  he  remarked. 

Somewhat  to  Austen's  embarrassment,  Mr.  Meader's 
friends  were  pushing  forward.  One  grizzled  veteran  took 
him  by  the  hand  and  looked  thoughtfully  into  his  face. 

"  I've  lived  a  good  many  years,"  he  said,  "  but  I  never 
heerd  'em  talked  up  to  like  that.  You're  my  candidate  for 
governor." 


CHAPTER  VI 

ENTER   THE  LION 

IT  is  a  fact,  as  Shakespeare  has  so  tersely  hinted,  that 
fame  sometimes  comes  in  the  line  of  duty.  To  be  sure,  if 
Austen  Vane  had  been  Timothy  Smith,  the  Header  case 
might  not  have  made  quite  so  many  ripples  in  the  pond 
with  which  this  story  is  concerned.  Austen  did  what  he 
thought  was  right.  In  the  opinion  of  many  of  his  father's 
friends  whom  he  met  from  time  to  time  he  had  made  a 
good-sized  stride  towards  ruin,  and  they  did  not  hesitate 
to  tell  him  so  —  Mr.  Chipman,  president  of  the  Ripton 
National  Bank;  Mr.  Greene,  secretary  and  treasurer  of 
the  Hawkeye  Paper  Company,  who  suggested  with  all 
kindness  that,  however  noble  it  may  be,  it  doesn't  pay  to 
tilt  at  windmills. 

"Not  unless  you  wreck  the  windmill,"  answered  Austen. 
A  new  and  very  revolutionary  point  of  view  to  Mr.  Greene, 
who  repeated  it  to  Professor  Brewer,  urging  that  gentle 
man  to  take  Austen  in  hand.  But  the  professor  burst 
out  laughing,  and  put  the  saying  into  circulation. 

Mr.  Silas  Tredway,  whose  list  of  directorships  is  too  long 
to  print,  also  undertook  to  remonstrate  with  the  son  of 
his  old  friend,  Hilary  Vane.  The  young  lawyer  heard  him 
respectfully.  The  cashiers  of  some  of  these  gentlemen,  who 
were  younger  men,  ventured  to  say  —  when  out  of  hearing 
—  that  they  admired  the  championship  of  Mr.  Meader,  but 
it  would  never  do.  To  these,  likewise,  Austen  listened 
good-naturedly  enough,  and  did  not  attempt  to  contradict 
them.  Changing  the  angle  of  the  sun-dial  does  not  affect 
the  time  of  day. 

It  was  not  surprising  that  young  Tom  Gaylord,  when 
he  came  back  from  New  York  and  heard  of  Austen's 
F  65 


66  MR.   CREWE'S  CAREER 

victory,  should  have  rushed  to  his  office  and  pongratulated 
him  in  a  rough  but  hearty  fashion.  Even  though  Austen 
had  won  a  suit  against  the  Gaylord  Lumber  Company, 
young  Tom  would  have  congratulated  him.  Old  Tom 
was  a  different  matter.  Old  Tom,  hobbling  along  under 
the  maples,  squinted  at  Austen  and  held  up  his  stick. 

"  Damn  you,  you're  a  lawyer,  ain't  you  ?  "  cried  the  old 
man. 

Austen,  well  used  to  this  kind  of  greeting  from  Mr. 
Gaylord,  replied  that  he  didn't  think  himself  much  of 

s.     one' 

"  Damn  it,  I  say  you  are.  Some  day  I  may  have  use  for 
you,"  said  old  Tom,  and  walked  on. 

"  No,"  said  ypung  Tom,  afterwards,  in  explanation  of 
this  extraordinary  attitude  of  his  father,  "  it  isn't  princi 
ple.  He's  had  a  row  with  the  Northeastern  about  lumber 
rates,  and  swears  he'll  live  till  he  gets  even  with  'em." 

If  Professor  Brewer  (Riptdn's  most  clear-sighted  citizen) 
had  made  the  statement  that  Hilary  Vane  —  away  down 
in  the  bottom  of  his  heart  —  was  secretly  proud  of  his  son, 
the  professor  would  probably  have  lost  his  place  on  the 
school  board,  the  water  board,  and  the  library  committee. 
The  way  the  worldly-wise  professor  discovered  the  secret 
was  this  :  he  had  gone  to  Bradford  to  hear  the  case,  for  he 
had  been  a  dear  friend  of  Sarah  Austen.  Two  days  later 
Hilary  Vane  saw  the  professor  on  his  little  porch,  and 
lingered.  Mr.  Brewer  suspected  why,  led  carefully  up  to 
the  subject,  and  not  being  discouraged —  except  by  nu 
merous  grunts — gave  the  father  an  account  of  the  pro 
ceedings  by  no  means  unfavourable  to  the  son.  Some 
people  like  paregoric;  the  Honourable  Hilary  took  his 
without  undue  squirming,  with  no  visible  effects  to 
Austen. 

Life  in  the  office  continued,  with  one  or  two  exceptions, 
the  even  tenor  of  its  way.  Apparently,  so  far  as  the  Hon 
ourable  Hilary  was  concerned,  his  son  had  never  been  to 
Bradford.  But  the  Honourable  Brush  Bascom,  when  he 
came  on  mysterious  business  to  call  on  the  chief  counsel, 
no  longer  sat  on  Austen's  table ;  this  was  true  of  other 


ENTER  THE  LION  67 

feudal  lords  and  retainers :  of  Mr.  Nat  Billings,  who,  by 
the  way,  did  not/,  file  his  draft  «after  alL  Not  that  Mr. 
Billings  wasn't  polite,  but  he  indulged  no  longer  in  slow 
winks  at  the  expense  of  the  honourable  Railroad  Com 
mission. 

Perhaps  the  most  curious  result  of  the  Meader  case  to 
be  remarked  in  passing,  was  upon  Mr.  Hamilton  Tooting. 
Austen,  except  when  he  fled  to  the  hills,  was  usually  the 
last  to  leave  the  office,  Mr.  Tooting  often  the  first.  But 
one  evening  Mr.  Tooting  waited  until  the  force  had  gone, 
and  entered  Austen's  room  with  his  hand  outstretched. 

"  Put  her  there,  Aust,"  he  said. 

Austen  put  her  there. 

44  I've  been  exercisin'  my  thinker  some  the  last  few 
months,"  observed  Mr.  Tooting,  seating  himself  on  the 
desk. 

44  Aren't  you  afraid  of  nervous  prostration,  Ham  ?  " 

44  Say,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Tooting,  with  a  vexed  laugh, 
"why  are  you  always  jollying  me?  You  ain't  any  older 
than  I  am." 

44  I'm  not  as  old,  Ham?  I  don't  begin  to  have  your 
knowledge  of  the  world." 

44  Come  off,"  said  Mr.  Tooting,  who  didn't  know  exactly 
how  to  take  this  compliment.  44 1  came  in  here  to  have  a 
serious  talk.  I've  been  thinking  it  over,  and  I  don't  know 
but  what  you  did  right/' 

44  Well,  Ham,  if  you  don't  know,  I  don't  know  how  I  am 
to  convince  you." 

44  Hold  on.  Don't  go  twistin'  around  that  way  —  you 
make  me  dizzy."  He  lowered  his  voice  confidentially, 
although  there  was  no  one  within  five  walls  of  them.  44 1 
know  the  difference  between  a  gold  brick  and  a  govern 
ment  bond,  anyhow.  I  believe  bucking  the  railroad's 
going  to  pay  in  a  year  or  so.  I  got  on  to  it  as  soon  as  you 
did,  I  guess,  but  when  a  feller's  worn  the  collar  as  long  as 
I  have  and  has  to  live,  it  ain't  easy  to  cut  loose  —  you 
understand." 

44 1  understand,"  answered  Austen,  gravely. 

44 1  thought  I'd  let  you  know  I  didn't  take  any  too  much 


68  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

trouble  with  Header  last  summer  to  get  the  old  bird  to 
accept  a  compromise." 

"That  was  good  of  you,  Ham." 

"  I  knew  what  you  was  up  to,"  said  Mr.  Tooting,  giv 
ing  Austen  a  friendly  poke  with  his  cigar. 

"  You  showed  your  usual  acumen,  Mr.  Tooting,"  said 
Austen,  as  he  rose  to  put  on  his  coat.  Mr.  Tooting  re 
garded  him  uneasily. 

"You're  a  deep  one,  Aust,"  he  declared;  "some  day 
you  and  me  must  get  together." 

Mr.  Billings'  desire  for  ultimate  justice  not  being  any 
stronger  than  Austen  suspected,  in  due  time  Mr.  Meacler 
got  his  money.  His  counsel  would  have  none  of  it,  —  a 
decision  not  at  all  practical,  and  on  the  whole  disappoint 
ing.  There  was,  to  be  sure,  an  influx  into  Austen's  office 
of  people  who  had  been  run  over  in  the  past,  and  it  was 
Austen's  unhappy  duty  to  point  out  to  these  that  they 
had  signed  (at  the  request  of  various  Mr.  Tootings)  little 
slips  of  paper  which  are  technically  known  as  releases. 
But  the  first  hint  of  a  really  material  advantage  to  be 
derived  from  his  case  against  the  railroad  came  from  a 
wholly  unexpected  source,  in  the  shape  of  a  letter  in  the 
mail  one  August  morning. 

"  DEAR  SIB  :  Having  remarked  with  some  interest  the 
verdict  for  a  client  of  yours  against  the  United  North 
eastern  Railroads,  I  wish  you  would  call  and  see  me  at  your 
earliest  convenience. 

"  Yours  truly, 

"HUMPHREY  CREWE." 

Although  his  curiosity  was  aroused,  Austen  was  of  two 
minds  whether  to  answer  this  summons,  the  truth  being 
that  Mr.  Crewe  had  not  made,  on  the  occasions  on  which 
they  had  had  intercourse,  the  most  favourable  of  im 
pressions.  However,  it  is  not  for  the  struggling  lawyer 
to  scorn  any  honourable  brief,  especially  from  a  gentleman 
of  stocks  and  bonds  and  varied  interests  like  Mr.  Crewe, 
with  whom  contentions  of  magnitude  are  inevitably  asso- 


ENTER  THE   LION  69 

elated.  As  he  spun  along  behind  Pepper  on  the  Leith 
road  that  climbed  Willow  Brook  on  the  afternoon  he  had 
made  the  appointment,  Austen  smiled  to  himself  over  his 
anticipations,  and  yet  —  being  human  —  let  his  fancy 
play. 

The  broad  acres  of  Wedderburn  stretched  across  many 
highways,  but  the  manor-house  (as  it  had  been  called) 
stood  on  an  eminence  whence  one  could  look  for  miles 
down  the  Vale  of  the  Blue.  It  had  once  been  a  farm 
house,  but  gradually  the  tail  had  begun  to  wag  the  dog, 
and  the  farmhouse  became,  like  the  original  stone  out  of 
which  the  Irishman  made  the  soup,  difficult  to  find.  Once 
the  edifice  had  been  on  the  road,  but  the  road  had  long  ago 
been  removed  to  a  respectful  distance,  and  Austen  entered 
between  two  massive  pillars  built  of  granite  blocks  on  a 
musical  gravel  drive. 

Humphrey  Crewe  was  on  the  porch,  his  hands  in  his 
pockets,  as  Austen  drove  up. 

"  Hello,"  he  said,  in  a  voice  probably  meant  to  be  hos 
pitable,  but  which  had  a  peremptory  ring,  "  don't  stand 
on  ceremony.  Hitch  your  beast  and  come  along  in." 

Having,  as  it  were,  superintended  the  securing  of 
Pepper,  Mr.  Crewe  led  the  way  through  the  house  to 
the  study,  pausing  once  or  twice  to  point  out  to  Austen 
a  carved  ivory  elephant  procured  at  great  expense  in 
China,  and  a  piece  of  tapestry  equally  difficult  of  purchase. 
The  study  itself  was  no  mere  lounging  place  of  a  man 
of  pleasure,  but  sober  and  formidable  books  were  scattered 
through  the  cases:  Turner's  "Evolution  of  the  Railroad," 
Graham's  "Practical  Forestry,"  Eldridge's  "Finance"; 
while  whole  shelves  of  modern  husbandry  proclaimed  that 
Mr.  Humphrey  Crewe  was  no  amateur  farmer.  There 
was  likewise  a  shelf  devoted  to  road  building,  several 
to  knotty-looking  pamphlets,  and  half  a  wall  of  neatly 
labelled  pigeonholes.  For  decoration,  there  was  an  oar 
garnished  with  a  ribbon,  and  several  groups  of  college 
undergraduates,  mostly  either  in  puffed  ties  or  scanty 
attire,  and  always  prominent  in  these  groups,  and 
always  unmistakable,  was  Mr.  Humphrey  Crewe  himself. 


70  MR.    CREWE'S   CAREER 

Mr.  Ore  we  was  silent  awhile,  that  this  formidable  array 
of  things  might  make  the  proper  impression  upon  his 
visitor. 

"It  was  lucky  you  came  to-day,  Vane,"  he  said  at 
length.  "  I  am  due  in  New  York  to-morrow  for  a  di 
rectors'  meeting,  and  I  have  a  conference  in  Chicago  with 
a  board  of  trustees  of  which  I  am  a  member  on  the  third. 
Looking  at  my  array  of  pamphlets,  eh  ?  I've  been  years 
in  collecting  them,  —  ever  since  I  left  college.  Those  on 
railroads  ought  especially  to  interest  you  —  I'm  somewhat 
of  a  railroad  man  myself." 

"  I  didn't  know  that,"  said  Austen. 

"Had  two  or  three  blocks  of  stock  in  subsidiary  lines 
that  had  to  be  looked  after.  It  was  a  nuisance  at  first," 
said  Mr.  Crewe,  "but  I  didn't  shirk  it.  I  made  up  my 
mind  I'd  get  to  the  bottom  of  the  railroad  problem,  and 
I  did.  It's  no  use  doing  a  thing  at  all  unless  you  do 
it  well."  Mr.  Crewe,  his  hands  still  in  his  pockets,  faced 
Austen  smilingly.  "  Now  I'll  bet  you  didn't  know  I  was 
a  railroad  man  until  you  came  in  here.  To  tell  the  truth, 
it  was  about  a  railroad  matter  that  I  sent  for  you." 

Mr.  Crewe  lit  a  cigar,  but  he  did  not  offer  one  to 
Austen,  as  he  had  to  Mr.  Tooting.  "I  wanted  to  see 
what  you  were  like,"  he  continued,  with  refreshing  frank 
ness.  "  Of  course,  I'd  seen  you  on  the  road.  But  you 
can  get  more  of  an  idea  of  a  man  by  talkin'  to  him,  you 
know." 

"  You  can  if  he'll  talk,"  said  Austen,  who  was  beginning 
to  enjoy  his  visit. 

Mr.  Crewe  glanced  at  him  keenly.  Few  men  are  fools 
at  all  points  of  the  compass,  and  Mr.  Crewe  was  far  from 
this. 

"  You  did  well  in  that  little  case  you  had  against  the 
Northeastern.  I  heard  about  it." 

"  I  did  my  best,"  answered  Austen,  and  he  smiled  again. 

"  As  some  great  man  has  remarked,"  observed  Mr. 
Crewe,  "it  isn't  what  we  do,  it's  how  we  do  it.  Take 
pains  over  the  smaller  cases,  and  the  larger  cases  wil] 
come  of  themselves,  eh  ?  " 


ENTER  THE  LION  71 

"  I  live  in  hope,"  said  Austen,  wondering  how  soon  this 
larger  case  was  going  to  unfold  itself. 

"  Let  me  see,"  said  Mr.  Crewe,  "  isn't  your  father  the 
chief  attorney  in  this  State  for  the  Northeastern  ?  How 
do  you  happen  to  be  on  the  other  side  ?  " 

"By  the  happy  accident  of  obtaining  a  client,"  said 
Austen. 

Mr.  Crewe  glanced  at  him  again.  In  spite  of  himself, 
respect  was  growing  in  him.  He  had  expected  to  find  a 
certain  amount  of  eagerness  and  subserviency — though 
veiled  ;  here  was  a  man  of  different  calibre  than  he  looked 
for  in  Ripton. 

"  The  fact  is,"  he  declared,  "  I  have  a  grievance  against 
the  Northeastern  Railroads,  and  I  have  made  up  my  mind 
that  you  are  the  man  for  me." 

"  You  may  have  reason  to  regret  your  choice,"  Austen 
suggested. 

"I  think  not,"  replied  Mr.  Crewe,  promptly;  "I  believe 
I  know  a  man  when  I  see  one,  and  you  inspire  me  with 
confidence.  This  matter  will  have  a  double  interest  for 
you,  as  I  understand  you  are  fond  of  horses." 

"Horses?" 

"  Yes,"  Mr.  Crewe  continued,  gaining  a  little  heat  at 
the  word,  "  I  bought  the  finest-lookin'  pair  you  ever  saw 
in  New  York  this  spring,  —  all-around  action,  manners, 
conformation,  everything  ;  I'll  show  'em  to  you.  One  of 
'em's  all  right  now  ;  this  confounded  railroad  injured  the 
other  gettin'  him  up  here.  I've  put  in  a  claim.  They 
say  they  didn't,  my  man  says  they  did.  He  tells  me  the 
horse  was  thrown  violently  against  the  sides  of  the  car 
several  times.  He's  internally  injured.  I  told  'em  I'd 
sue  'em,  and  I've  decided  that  you  are  the  man  to  take 
the  case  —  on  conditions." 

Austen's  sense  of  humour  saved  him,  —  and  Mr. 
Humphrey  Crewe  had  begun  to  interest  him.  He  rose 
and  walked  to  the  window  and  looked  out  for  a  few 
moments  over  the  flower  garden  before  he  replied  :  — 

"  On  what  conditions  ?  " 

"  Well,"  said  Mr.  Crewe,  "  frankly,  I  don't  want  to  pay 


72  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

more  than  the  horse  is  worth,  and  it's  business  to  settle 
on  the  fee  in  case  you  win.  I  thought  —  " 

"  You  thought,"  said  Austen,  "  that  I  might  not  charge 
as  much  as  the  next  man." 

"Well,"  said  Mr.  Crewe,  "I  knew  that  if  you  took 
the  case,  you'd  fight  it  through,  and  I  want  to  get  even 
with  'em.  Their  claim  agent  had  the  impudence  to 
suggest  that  the  horse  had  been  doctored  by  the  dealer 
in  New  York.  To  tell  me  that  I,  who  have  been  buying 
horses  all  my  life,  was  fooled.  The  veterinary  swears 
the  animal  is  ruptured.  I'm  a  citizen  of  Avalon  County, 
though  many  people  call  me  a  summer  resident ;  I've  done 
business  here  and  helped  improve  the  neighbourhood  for 
years.  It  will  be  my  policy  to  employ  home  talent  — 
Avalon  County  lawyers,  for  instance.  I  may  say,  without 
indiscretion,  that  I  intend  from  now  on  to  take  even  a 
greater  interest  in  public  affairs.  The  trouble  is  in  this 
country  that  men  in  my  position  do  not  feel  their  responsi 
bilities." 

"  Public  spirit  is  a  rare  virtue,"  Austen  remarked,  see 
ing  that  he  was  expected  to  say  something.  "Avalon 
County  appreciates  the  compliment,  —  if  I  may  be  per 
mitted  to  answer  for  it." 

"  I  want  to  do  the  right  thing,"  said  Mr.  Crewe.  "In 
fact,  I  have  almost  made  up  my  mind  to  go  to  the 
Legislature  this  year.  I  know  it  would  be  a  sacrifice  of 
time,  in  a  sense,  and  all  that,  but  — "  He  paused,  and 
looked  at  Austen. 

"  The  Legislature  needs  leavening." 

"  Precisely,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Crewe,  "  and  when  I  look 
around  me  and  see  the  things  crying  to  be  done  in  this 
State,  and  no  lawmaker  with  sense  and  foresight  enough 
to  propose  them,  it  makes  me  sick.  Now,  for  instance," 
he  continued,  and  rose  with  an  evident  attempt  to  assault 
the  forestry  shelves.  But  Austen  rose  too. 

"  I'd  like  to  go  over  that  with  you,  Mr.  Crewe,"  said  he, 
"but  I  have  to  be  back  in  Ripton." 

"How  about  my  case?"  his  host  demanded,  with  a 
return  to  his  former  abruptness. 


ENTER  THE  LION  73 

"  What  about  it  ?  "  asked  Austen. 

"  Are  you  going  to  take  it  ?  " 

"  Struggling  lawyers  don't  refuse  business." 

"Well,"  said  Mr.  Crewe,  "that's  sensible.  But  what 
are  you  going  to  charge  ?  " 

"  Now,"  said  Austen,  with  entire  good  humour,  "  when 
you  get  on  that  ground,  you  are  dealing  no  longer  with 
one  voracious  unit,  but  with  a  whole  profession,  —  a  pro 
fession,  you  will  allow  me  to  add,  which  in  dignity  is 
second  to  none.  In  accordance  with  the  practice  of  the 
best  men  in  that  profession,  I  will  charge  you  what  I 
believe  is  fair  —  not  what  I  think  you  are  able  and  willing 
to  pay.  Should  you  dispute  the  bill,  I  will  not  stoop  to 
quarrel  with  you,  but  try  to  live  on  bread  and  butter  a 
while  longer." 

Mr.  Crewe  was  silent  for  a  moment.  It  would  not  be 
exact  to  say  uncomfortable,  for  it  is  to  be  doubted  whether 
he  ever  got  so.  But  he  felt  dimly  that  the  relations  of 
patron  and  patronized  were  becoming  somewhat  jumbled. 

"  All  right,"  said  he,  "  I  guess  we  can  let  it  go  at  that. 
Hello  !  What  the  deuce  are  those  women  doing  here 
again  ?  " 

This  irrelevant  exclamation  was  caused  by  the  sight  — 
through  the  open  French  window  —  of  three  ladies  in  the 
flower  garden,  two  of  whom  were  bending  over  the  beds. 
The  third,  upon  whose  figure  Austen's  eyes  were  riveted, 
was  seated  on  a  stone  bench  set  in  a  recess  of  pines,  and 
looking  off  into  the  Vale  of  the  Blue.  With  no  great 
eagerness,  but  without  apology  to  Austen,  Mr.  Crewe 
stepped  out  of  the  window  and  approached  them ;  and  as 
this  was  as  good  a  way  as  any  to  his  horse  and  buggy, 
Austen  followed.  One  of  the  ladies  straightened  at  their 
appearance,  scrutinized  them  through  the  glasses  she  held 
in  her  hand,  and  Austen  immediately  recognized  her  as 
the  irreproachable  Mrs.  Pomfret. 

"We  didn't  mean  to  disturb  you,  Humphrey,"  she  said. 
"  We  knew  you  would  be  engaged  in  business,  but  I  told 
Alice  as  we  drove  by  I  could  not  resist  stopping  for  one 
more  look  at  your  Canterbury  bells.  I  knew  you  wouldn't 


74  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

mind,  but  you  mustn't  leave  your  —  affairs, — not  for  an 
instant." 

The  word  "affairs"  was  accompanied  by  a  brief  inspec 
tion  of  Austen  Vane. 

"That's  all  right,"  answered  Mr.  Crewe;  "it  doesn't  cost 
anything  to  look  at  flowers,  that's  what  they're  for.  Cost 
something  to  put  'em  in.  I  got  that  little  feller  Ridley  to 
lay  'em  out  —  I  believe  I  told  you.  He's  just  beginning. 
Hello,  Alice." 

"  I  think  he  did  it  very  well,  Humphrey,"  said  Miss 
Pomfret. 

"  Passably,"  said  Mr.  Crewe.  "I  told  him  what  I  wanted 
and  drew  a  rough  sketch  of  the  garden  and  the  colour 
scheme." 

"  Then  you  did  it,  and  not  Mr.  Ridley.  I  rather  sus 
pected  it,"  said  Mrs.  Pomfret;  "you  have  such  clear  and 
practical  ideas  about  things,  Humphrey." 

"It's  simple  enough,"  said  Mr.  Crewe,  deprecatingly, 
"  after  you've  seen  a  few  hundred  gardens  and  get  the 
general  underlying  principle." 

"  It's  very  clever,"  Alice  murmured. 

"  Not  at  all.  A  little  application  will  do  wonders.  A 
certain  definite  colour  massed  here,  another  definite  colour 
there,  and  so  forth." 

Mr.  Crewe  spoke  as  though  Alice's  praise  irritated  him 
slightly.  He  waved  his  hand  to  indicate  the  scheme  in 
general,  and  glanced  at  Victoria  on  the  stone  bench.  From 
her  (Austen  thought)  seemed  to  emanate  a  silent  but 
mirthful  criticism,  although  she  continued  to  gaze  per 
sistently  down  the  valley,  apparently  unaware  of  their 
voices.  Mr.  Crewe  looked  as  if  he  would  have  liked  to 
reach  her,  but  the  two  ladies  filled  the  narrow  path,  and 
Mrs.  Pomfret  put  her  fingers  on  his  sleeve. 

"  Humphrey,  you  must  explain  it  to  us.  I  am  so  inter 
ested  in  gardens  I'm  going  to  have  one  if  Electrics  increase 
their  dividend." 

Mr.  Crewe  began,  with  no  great  ardour,  to  descant  on 
the  theory  of  planting,  and  Austen  resolved  to  remain 
pocketed  and  ignored  no  longer.  He  retraced  his  steps 


ENTER  THE   LION  75 

and  made  his  way  rapidly  by  another  path  towards  Victoria, 
who  turned  her  head  at  his  approach,  and  rose.  He  acknow 
ledged  an  inward  agitation  with  the  vision  in  his  eye  of  the 
tall,  white  figure  against  the  pines,  clad  with  the  art  which, 
in  mysterious  simplicity,  effaces  itself. 

"  I  was  wondering,"  she  said,  as  she  gave  him  her  hand, 
"  how  long  it  would  be  before  you  spoke  to  me." 

"  You  gave  me  no  chance,"  said  Austen,  quickly. 

"  Do  you  deserve  one  ?  "  she  asked. 

Before  he  could  answer,  Mr.  Crewe's  explanation  of  his 
theories  had  come  lamely  to  a  halt.  Austen  was  aware  of 
the  renewed  scrutiny  of  Mrs.  Pomfret,  and  then  Mr. 
Crewe,  whom  no  social  manacles  could  shackle,  had  broken 
past  her  and  made  his  way  to  them.  He  continued  to 
treat  the  ground  on  which  Austen  was  standing  as  un 
occupied. 

"  Hello,  Victoria,"  he  said,  "  you  don't  know  anything 
about  gardens,  do  you  ?  " 

"  I  don't  believe  you  do  either,"  was  Victoria's  surpris 
ing  reply. 

Mr.  Crewe  laughed  at  this  pleasantry. 

"  How  are  you  going  to  prove  it  ?  "  he  demanded. 

"  By  comparing  what  you've  done  with  Freddie  Ridley's 
original  plan,"  said  Victoria. 

Mr.  Crewe  was  nettled. 

"  Ridley  has  a  lot  to  learn,"  he  retorted.  "  He  had  no 
conception  of  what  was  appropriate  here." 

"  Freddie  was  weak,"  said  Victoria,  "  but  he  needed 
the  money.  Don't  you  know  Mr.  Vane  ?  " 

"Yes,"  said  Mr.  Crewe,  shortly,  "I've  been  talking  to 
him  —  on  business." 

-  "  Oh,"  said  Victoria,  "  I  had  no  means  of  knowing.  Mrs. 
Pomfret,  I  want  to  introduce  Mr.  Vane,  and  Miss  Pomfret, 
Mr.  Vane." 

Mrs.  Pomfret,  who  had  been  hovering  on  the  outskirts 
of  this  duel,  inclined  her  head  the  fraction  of  an  inch,  but 
Alice  put  out  her  hand  with  her  sweetest  manner. 

"When  did  you  arrive  ?  "  she  asked. 

"Well,  the  fact  is,  I  haven't  arrived  yet,"  said  Austen. 


76  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

"Not  arrived!"  exclaimed  Alice,  with  a  puzzled  glance 
into  Victoria's  laughing  eyes. 

"  Perhaps  Humphrey  will  help  you  along,"  Victoria 
suggested,  turning  to  him.  "He  might  be  induced  to  give 
you  his  celebrated  grievance  about  his  horses." 

"  I  have  given  it  to  him,"  said  Mr.  Crewe,  briefly. 

"  Cheer  up,  Mr.  Vane,  your  fortune  is  made,"  said 
Victoria. 

"  Victoria,"  said  Mrs.  Pomfret,  in  her  most  imperial 
voice,  "  we  ought  to  be  going  instantly,  or  we  shan't  have 
time  to  drop  you  at  the  Hammonds'." 

"  I'll  take  you  over  in  the  new  motor  car,"  said  Mr.  Crewe, 
with  his  air  of  conferring  a  special  train. 

"  How  much  is  gasoline  by  the  gallon  ? "  inquired 
Victoria. 

"  I  did  a  favour  once  for  the  local  manager,  and  get  a 
special  price,"  said  Mr.  Crewe. 

"  Humphrey,"  said  Mrs.  Pomfret,  taking  his  hand, 
"  don't  forget  you  are  coining  to  dinner  to-night.  Four 
people  gave  out  at  the  last  minute,  and  there  will  be  just 
Alice  and  myself.  I've  asked  old  Mr.  Fitzhugh." 

"  All  right,"  said  Mr.  Crewe,  "  I'll  have  the  motor  car 
brought  around." 

The  latter  part  of  this  remark  was,  needless  to  say, 
addressed  to  Victoria. 

"  It's  awfully  good  of  you,  Humphrey,"  she  answered, 
"  but  the  Hammonds  are  on  the  road  to  Ripton,  arid  I  am 
going  to  ask  Mr.  Vane  to  drive  me  down  there  behind 
that  adorable  horse  of  his." 

This  announcement  produced  a  varied  effect  upon  those 
who  heard  it,  although  all  experienced  surprise.  Mrs. 
Pomfret,  in  addition  to  an  anger  w~hich  she  controlled 
only  as  the  result  of  long  practice,  was  horrified,  and  once 
more  levelled  her  glasses  at  Austen. 

"I  think,  Victoria,  you  had  better  come  with  us,"  she 
said.  "  We  shall  have  plenty  of  time,  if  we  hurry." 

By  this  time  Austen  had  recovered  his  breath. 

"  I'll  be  ready  in  an  instant,"  he  said,  and  made  brief 
but  polite  adieus  to  the  three  others. 


ENTER  THE  LION  77 

"  Good-by,"  said  Alice,  vaguely. 

"  Let  me  know  when  anything  develops,"  said  Mr. 
Crewe,  with  his  back  to  his  attorney. 

Austen  found  Victoria,  her  colour  heightened  a  little, 
waiting  for  him  by  the  driveway.  The  Pomfrets  had  just 
driven  off,  and  Mr»  Crewe  was  nowhere  to  be  seen. 

"  I  do  not  know  what  you  will  think  of  me  for  taking 
this  for  granted,  Mr.  Vane,"  she  said  as  he  took  his  seat 
beside  her,  "  but  I  couldn't  resist  the  chance  of  driving 
behind  your  horse." 

"  I  realized,"  he  answered  smilingly,  "  that  Pepper  was 
the  attraction,  and  I  have  more  reason  than  ever  to  be 
grateful  to  him." 

She  glanced  covertly  at  the  Vane  profile,  at  the  sure, 
restraining  hands  on  the  reins  which  governed  with  so 
nice  a  touch  the  mettle  of  the  horse.  His  silence  gave 
her  time  to  analyze  again  her  interest  in  this  man,  which 
renewed  itself  at  every  meeting.  In  the  garden  she  had 
been  struck  by  the  superiority  of  a  nature  which  set  at 
naught  what  had  been,  to  some  smaller  spirits,  a  difficult 
situation.  She  recognized  this  quality  as  inborn,  but,  not 
knowing  of  Sarah  Austen,  she  wondered  where  he  got  it. 
Now  it  was  the  fact  that  he  refrained  from  comment  that 
pleased  her  most. 

"  Did  Humphrey  actually  send  for  you  to  take  up  the 
injured  horse  case  ?  "  she  asked. 

Austen  flushed. 

"  I'm  afraid  he  did.  You  seem  to  know  all  about  it,"  he 
added. 

"  Know  all  about  it  !  Every  one  within  twenty  miles  of 
Leith  knows  about  it.  I'm  sure  the  horse  was  doctored 
when  he  bought  him." 

"  Take  care,  you  may  be  called  as  a  witness." 

"What  I  want  to  know  is,  why  you  accepted  such  a 
silly  case,"  said  Victoria. 

Austen  looked  quizzically  into  her  upturned  face,  and 
she  dropped  her  eyes. 

"That's  exactly  what  I  should  have  asked  myself, — - 
after  a  while,"  he  said. 


78  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

She  laughed  with  a  delicious  understanding  of  "  after  a 
while." 

"  I  suppose  you  think  me  frightfully  forward,"  she  said, 
in  a  lowered  voice,  "  inviting  myself  to  drive  and  asking 
you  such  a  question  when  I  scarcely  know  you.  But  I 
just  couldn't  go  on  with  Mrs.  Pomfret,  —  she  irritated  me 
so,  —  and  my  front  teeth  are  too  valuable  to  drive  with 
Humphrey  Crewe." 

Austen  smiled,  and  secretly  agreed  with  her. 

"  I  should  have  offered,  if  I  had  dared,"  he  said. 

"  Dared!  I  didn't  know  that  was  your  failing.  1  don't 
believe  you  even  thought  of  it." 

"  Nevertheless,  the  idea  occurred  to  me,  and  terrified 
me,"  said  Austen. 

"  Why  ? "  she  asked,  turning  upon  him  suddenly. 
"  Why  did  it  terrify  you  ?  " 

"  I  should  have  been  presuming  upon  an  accidental  ac 
quaintance,  which  I  had  no  means  of  knowing  you  wished 
to  continue,"  he  replied,  staring  at  his  horse's  head. 

"  And  I  ?  "  Victoria  asked.  "  Presumption  multiplies 
tenfold  in  a  woman,  doesn't  it?" 

"A  woman  confers,"  said  Austen. 

She  smiled,  but  with  a  light  in  her  eyes.  This  simple 
sentence  seemed  to  reveal  yet  more  of  an  inner  man  different 
from  some  of  those  with  whom  her  life  had  been  cast.  It 
was  an  American  point  of  view — this  choosing  to  believe 
that  the  woman  conferred.  After  offering  herself  as  his 
passenger  Victoria,  too,  had  had  a  moment  of  terror  :  the 
action  had  been  the  result  of  an  impulse  which  she  did 
not  care  to  attempt  to  define.  She  changed  the  subject. 

"  You  have  been  winning  laurels  since  I  saw  you  last 
summer,"  she  said.  "  I  hear  incidentally  you  have  made 
our  friend  Zeb  Meader  a  rich  man." 

"  As  riches  go,  in  the  town  of  Mercer,"  Austen  laughed. 
"  As  for  my  laurels,  they  have  not  yet  begun  to 
chafe." 

Here  was  a  topic  he  would  have  avoided,  and  yet  he 
was  curious  to  discover  what  her  attitude  would  be.  He 
had  antagonized  her  father,  and  the  fact  that  he  was  the 


ENTER  THE   LION  79 

son  of  Hilary  Vane  had  given  his  antagonism  promi 
nence. 

"  I  am  glad  you  did  it  for  Zeb." 

"  I  should  have  done  it  for  anybody  —  much  as  I  like 
Zeb,"  he  replied  briefly. 

She  glanced  at  him. 

"It  was  —  courageous  of  you,"  she  said. 

"  I  have  never  looked  upon  it  in  that  light,"  he  an 
swered.  "  May  I  ask  you  how  you  heard  of  it  ?  " 

She  coloured,  but  faced  the  question. 

"  I  heard  it  from  my  father,  at  first,  and  I  took  an  inter 
est —  on  Zeb  Header's  account,"  she  added  hastily. 

Austen  was  silent. 

"Of  course,"  she  continued,  "I  felt  a  little  like  boast 
ing  of  an  4  accidental  acquaintance '  with  the  man  who 
saved  Zeb  Header's  life." 

Austen  laughed.  Then  he  drew  Pepper  down  to  a  walk, 
and  turned  to  her. 

"  The  power  of  making  it  more  than  an  accidental 
acquaintance  lies  with  you,"  he  said  quietly. 

"  I  have  always  had  an  idea  that  aggression  was  a  man's 
prerogative,"  Victoria  answered  lightly.  "  And  seeing 
that  you  have  not  appeared  at  Fairview  for  something 
over  a  year,  I  can  only  conclude  that  you  do  not  choose  to 
exercise  it  in  this  case." 

Austen  was  in  a  cruel  quandary. 

"  I  did  wish  to  come,"  he  answered  simply,  "  but  —  the 
fact  that  I  have  had  a  disagreement  with  your  father  has 
—  made  it  difficult." 

"Nonsense!  "  exclaimed  Victoria;  "just  because  you  have 
won  a  suit  against  his  railroad.  You  don't  know  my 
father,  Hr.  Vane.  He  isn't  the  kind  of  man  with  whom 
that  would  make  any  difference.  You  ought  to  talk  it 
over  with  him.  He  thinks  you  were  foolish  to  take  Zeb 
Header's  side." 

"  And  you  ?  "  Austen  demanded  quickly. 

"  You  see,  I'm  a  woman,"  said  Victoria,  "  and  I'm  preju 
diced  —  for  Zeb  Header.  Women  are  always  preju 
diced,  —  that's  our  trouble.  It  seemed  to  me  that  Zeb  was 


80  MR.   CREWE'S  CAREER 

old,  and  unfortunate,  and  ought  to  be  compensated,  since 
he  is  unable  to  work.  But  of  course  I  suppose  I  can't  be 
expected  to  understand." 

It  was  true  that  she  could  not  be  expected  to  understand. 
He  might  not  tell  her  that  his  difference  with  Mr.  Flint 
was  not  a  mere  matter  of  taking  a  small  damage  suit 
against  his  railroad,  but  a  fundamental  one.  And  Austen 
recognized  that  the  justification  of  his  attitude  meant  an 
arraignment  of  Victoria's  father. 

"  I  wish  you  might  know  my  father  better,  Mr.  Vane," 
she  went  on,  "  I  wish  you  might  know  him  as  I  know  him, 
if  it  were  possible.  You  see,  I  have  been  his  constant 
companion  all  my  life,  and  I  think  very  few  people  under 
stand  him  as  I  do,  and  realize  his  fine  qualities.  He  makes 
no  attempt  to  show  his  best  side  to  the  world.  His  life 
has  been  spent  in  fighting,  and  I  am  afraid  he  is  apt  to 
meet  the  world  on  that  footing.  He  is  a  man  of  such 
devotion  to  his  duty  that  he  rarely  has  a  day  to  himself, 
and  I  have  known  him  to  sit  up  until  the  small  hours  of 
the  morning  to  settle  some  little  matter  of  justice.  I  do 
not  think  I  am  betraying  his  confidence  when  I  say  that  he 
is  impressed  with  your  ability,  and  that  he  liked  your  man 
ner  the  only  time  he  ever  talked  to  you.  He  believes  that 
you  have  got,  in  some  way,  a  wrong  idea  of  what  he  is  trying 
to  do.  Why  don't  you  come  up  and  talk  to  him  again  ? " 

"  I  am  afraid  your  kindness  leads  you  to  overrate  my 
importance,"  Austen  replied,  with  mingled  feelings.  Vic 
toria's  confidence  in  her  father  made  the  situation  all  the 
more  hopeless. 

"I'm  sure  I  don't,"  she  answered  quickly;  "ever 
since  —  ever  since  I  first  laid  eyes  upon  you  I  have  had  a 
kind  of  belief  in  you." 

"  Belief  !  "  he  echoed. 

"Yes,"  she  said,  "belief  that  —  that  you  had  a  future. 
I  can't  describe  it,"  she  continued,  the  colour  coming  into 
her  face  again;  "one  feels  that  way  about  some  people 
without  being  able  to  put  the  feeling  into  words.  And  1 
have  a  feeling,  too,  that  I  should  like  you  to  be  friends 
with  my  father." 


ENTER  THE  LION  81 

Neither  of  them,  perhaps,  realized  the  rapidity  with 
which  "  accidental  acquaintance "  had  melted  into  inti 
macy.  Austen's  blood  ran  faster,  but  it  was  character 
istic  of  him  that  he  tried  to  steady  himself,  for  he  was  a 
Vane.  He  had  thought  of  her  many  times  during  the 
past  year,  but  gradually  the  intensity  of  the  impression 
had  faded  until  it  had  been  so  unexpectedly  and  vividly 
renewed  to-day.  He  was  not  a  man  to  lose  his  head,  and 
the  difficulties  of  the  situation  made  him  pause  and  choose 
his  words,  while  he  dared  not  so  much  as  glance  at  her  as 
she  sat  in  the  sunlight  beside  him. 

"  I  should  like  to  be  friends  with  your  father,"  he  an 
swered  gravely,  —  the  statement  being  so  literally  true  as 
to  have  its  pathetically  humorous  aspect. 

"  I'll  tell  him  so,  Mr.  Vane,"  she  said. 

Austen  turned,  with  a  seriousness  that  dismayed  her. 

"  I  must  ask  you  as  a  favour  not  to  do  that,"  he  said. 

"Why?"  she  asked. 

"  In  the  first  place,"  he  answered  quietly,  "  I  cannot  af 
ford  to  have  Mr.  Flint  misunderstand  my  motives.  And 
I  ought  not  to  mislead  you,"  he  went  on.  "  In  periods  of 
public  controversy,  such  as  we  are  passing  through  at 
present,  sometimes  men's  views  differ  so  sharply  as  to 
make  intercourse  impossible.  Your  father  and  I  might 
not  agree  —  politically,  let  us  say.  For  instance,"  he 
added,  with  evident  hesitation,  "my  father  and  I  disagree." 

Victoria  was  silent.  And  presently  they  came  to  a 
wire  fence  overgrown  with  Virginia  creeper,  which  di 
vided  the  shaded  road  from  a  wide  lawn. 

"  Here  we  are  at  the  Hammonds',  and — thank  you," 
she  said. 

Any  reply  he  might  have  made  was  forestalled.  The 
insistent  and  intolerant  horn  of  an  automobile,  followed 
now  by  the  scream  of  the  gears,  broke  the  stillness  of  the 
country-side,  and  a  familiar  voice  cried  out  : 

"  Do  you  want  the  whole  road  ?  " 

Austen  turned  into  the  Hammonds'  drive  as  the  bull 
dog  nose  of  a  motor  forged  ahead,  and  Mr.  Crewe  swung  in 
the  driver's  seat. 


82  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

"  Hello,  Victoria,"  lie  shouted,  "  you  people  ought  to 
have  ear-trumpets." 

The  car  swerved,  narrowly  missed  a  watering  fountain 
where  the  word  "  Peace  "  was  inscribed,  and  shot  down 
the  hill. 

"  That  manner,"  said  Victoria,  as  she  jumped  out  of  the 
buggy,  "  is  a  valuable  political  asset." 

"Does  he  really  intend  to  go  into  politics?"  Austen 
asked  curiously. 

"  4  Intend '  is  a  mild  word  applied  to  Humphrey,"  she 
answered ;  "  '  determined  '  would  suit  him  better.  Accord 
ing  to  him,  there  is  no  game  that  cannot  be  won  by  dynam 
ics.  4  Get  out  of  the  way  '  is  his  motto.  Mrs.  Pomfret 
will  tell  you  how  he  means  to  cover  the  State  with  good 
roads  next  year,  and  take  a  house  in  Washington  the  year 
after."  She  held  out  her  hand.  "  Good-by, — and  I 
am  ever  so  much  obliged  to  you  for  bringing  me  here." 

He  drove  away  towards  Ripton  with  many  things  to 
think  about,  with  a  last  picture  of  her  in  his  mind  as  she 
paused  for  an  instant  in  the  flickering  shadows,  stroking 
Pepper's  forehead. 


CHAPTER   VII 

THE   LEOPARD   AND   HIS   SPOTS 


84  MR.   CREWE'S  CAREER 

tion,  it  would  seem  that  the  inhabitants  of  Leith  would] 
have  jumped  at  the  chance  to  make  such  a  man  one  of  the] 
five  hundred  in  their  State  Legislature. 

To  Whitman  is  attributed  the  remark  that  genius  is  al-l 
most  one  hundred  per  cent  directness,  but  whether  or  no! 
this  applied  to  Mr.  Humphrey  Crewe  remains  to  be  seen] 
"  Dynamics  "  more  surely  expressed  him.     It  would  no| 
seem  to  be  a  very  difficult  feat,  to  be  sure,  to  get  elected  t< 
a  State  Legislature  of  five  hundred  which  met  once  a  yearJ 
once  in  ten  years,  indeed,  might  have  been  more  appropri-T 
ate  for  the  five  hundred.     The  town  of  Leith  with  i1 
thousand    inhabitants   had   one   representative,  and  Mrl 
Crewe  had  made  up  his  mind  he  was  to  be  that  repre< 
sentative. 

There  was,  needless  to  say,  great  excitement  in  Leitl 
over  Mr.  Crewe's  proposed  venture  into  the  unknown  sej 
of  politics.     I  mean,  of  course,  that  portion  of  Leith  whic] 
recognized  in  Mr.  Crewe  an  eligible  bachelor  and  a  persoi 
of  social  importance,  for  these  qualities  were  not  particu-; 
larly  appealing  to  the  three  hundred  odd  farmers  who* 
votes  were  expected  to  send  him  rejoicing  to  the  Stai 
capital. 

"  It  is  so  rare  with  us  for  a  gentleman  to  go  into  poli 
tics,  that  we  ought  to  do  everything  we  can  to  elect  him,' 
Mrs.   Pomfret   went  about  declaring.      "  Women  do 
much  in  England,  I  wonder  they  don't  do  more  here. 
was  staying  at  Aylestone  Court  last  year  when  the  Hoi 
ourable  Billy  Aylestone  was  contesting  the  family  sej 
with  a  horrid  Radical,  and  I  assure  you,  my  dear,  I  g( 
quite  excited.     We  did  nothing  from  morning  till  nigl 
but  electioneer  for  the  Honourable  Billy,  and  kissed 
the  babies  in  the  borough.    The  mothers  were  so  grateful. 
Now,  Edith,  do  tell  Jack  instead  of  playing  tennis  ahc 
canoeing  all  day  he  ought  to  help.     It's  the  duty  of 
young  men  to  help.     Noblesse  oblige,  you  know.     I  can' 
understand  Victoria.     She  really  has  influence  with  thesaj 
country  people,  but  she  says  it's  all  nonsense.     Sometimesi 
I  think  Victoria  has  a  common  streak  in  her  —  and  noli 
wonder.      The  other  day  she  actually  drove  to  the  Ham-j 


THE   LEOPARD   AND   HIS   SPOTS  85 

nonds'  in  a  buggy  with  an  unknown  lawyer  from  Ripton. 
But  I  told  you  about  it.  Tell  your  gardener  and  the  people 
hat  do  your  haying,  dear,  and  your  chicken  woman.  My 
hicken  woman  is  most  apathetic,  but  do  you  wonder,  with 
he  life  they  lead  ?  " 

Mr.  Humphrey  Cre we  might  have  had,  with  King  Charles, 
he  watchword  "Thorough."  He  sent  to  the  town  clerk 
or  a  check-list,  and  proceeded  to  honour  each  of  the  two 
lundred  Republican  voters  with  a  personal  visit.  This  is 
i  fair  example  of  what  took  place  in  the  majority  of  cases. 

Out  of  a  cloud  of  dust  emerges  an  automobile,  which 
lalts,  with  protesting  brakes,  in  front  of  a  neat  farm- 
aouse,  guarded  by  great  maples.  Persistent  knocking  by 

chauffeur  at  last  brings  a  woman  to  the  door.  Mrs. 
Fenney  has  a  pleasant  face  and  an  ample  figure. 

"  Mr.  Jenney  live  here  ? "  cries  Mr.  Crewe  from  the 
Lriver's  seat. 

"  Yes,"  says  Mrs.  Jenney,  smiling. 

"  Tell  him  I  want  to  see  him." 

"  Guess  you'll  find  him  in  the  apple  orchard." 

"Where's  that?" 

The  chauffeur  takes  down  the  bars,  Mr.  Jenney  pricks 
up  his  ears,  and  presently  —  to  his  amazement  —  perceives 
a  Leviathan  approaching  him,  careening  over  the  ruts  of  his 
wood  road.  Not  being  an  emotional  person,  he  continues 
;o  pick  apples  until  he  is  summarily  hailed.  Then  he  goes 
eisurely  towards  the  Leviathan. 

"  Are  you  Mr.  Jenney  ?  " 

"  Callate  to  be,"  says  Mr.  Jenney,  pleasantly. 

"I'm  Humphrey  Crewe." 

"  How  be  you  ?  "  says  Mr.  Jenney,  his  eyes  wandering 
over  the  Leviathan. 

"  How  are  the  apples  this  year  ? "  asks  Mr.  Crewe, 
graciously. 

"  Fair  to  middlin',"  says  Mr.  Jenney. 

"  Have  you  ever  tasted  my  Pippins  ?  "  says  Mr.  Crewe. 

A  little  science  in  cultivation  helps  along.  I'm  going 
to  send  you  a  United  States  government  pamphlet  on  the 
:ruit  we  can  raise  here." 


86  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

Mr.  Jenney  makes  an  awkward  pause  by  keeping  silent 
on  the  subject  of  the  pamphlet  until  he  shall  see  it. 

uDo  you  take  much  interest  in  politics?  " 

"  Not  a  great  deal,"  answers  Mr.  Jenney. 

"  That's  the  trouble  with  Americans,"  Mr.  Crewe  de 
clares,  "  they  don't  care  who  represents  'em,  or  whether 
their  government's  good  or  bad." 

"  Guess  that's  so,"  replies  Mr.  Jenney,  politely. 

"  That  sort  of  thing's  got  to  stop,"  declares  Mr.  Crewe ; 
"  I'm  a  candidate  for  the  Republican  nomination  for  repre 
sentative." 

" 1  want  to  know  !  "  ejaculates  Mr.  Jenney,  pulling  his 
beard.  One  would  never  suspect  that  this  has  been  one  of 
Mr.  Jenney's  chief  topics  of  late. 

"  I'll  see  that  the  interests  of  this  town  are  cared  for." 

"  Let's  see,"  says  Mr.  Jenney,  "  there's  five  hundred  in 
the  House,  ain't  there  ?  " 

"  It's  a  ridiculous  number,"  says  Mr.  Crewe,  with  truth. 

"  Gives  everybody  a  chance  to  go,"  says  Mr.  Jenney. 
"  I  was  thar  in  '78,  and  enjoyed  it  some." 

"  Who  are  you  for  ?  "  demanded  Mr.  Crewe,  combating 
the  tendency  of  the  conversation  to  slip  into  a  pocket. 

"  Little  early  yet,  hain't  it  ?  Hain't  made  up  my  mind. 
Who's  the  candidates  ? "  asks  Mr.  Jenney,  continuing  to 
stroke  his  beard. 

"I  don't  know,"  says  Mr.  Crewe,  "but  I  do  know  I've 
done  something  for  this  town,  and  I  hope  you'll  take  it 
into  consideration.  Come  and  see  me  when  you  go  to  the 
village.  I'll  give  you  a  good  cigar,  and  that  pamphlet, 
and  we'll  talk  matters  over." 

"  Never  would  have  thought  to  see  one  of  them  things 
in  my  orchard  ! "  says  Mr.  Jenney.  "  How  much  do  they 
cost  ?  Much  as  a  locomotive,  don't  they  ?  " 

It  would  not  be  exact  to  say  that,  after  some  weeks  of 
this  sort  of  campaigning,  Mr.  Crewe  was  discouraged,  for 
such  was  the  vitality  with  which  nature  had  charged  him  that 
he  did  not  know  the  meaning  of  the  word.  He  was  merely  , 
puzzled,  as  a  June-bug  is  puzzled  when  it  bumps  up  against 
a  wire  window-screen.  He  had  pledged  to  him  his  own 


THE   LEOPARD  AND  HIS  SPOTS  87 

gardener,  Mrs.  Pomfret's,  the  hired  men  of  three  of  his 
neighbours,  a  fewmodest  souls  who  habitually  took  off  their 
iats  to  him,  arid  Mr.  Ball,  of  the  village,  who  sold  gro- 
series  to  Wedderburn  and  was  a  general  handy  man  for 
bhe  summer  people.  Mr.  Ball  was  an  agitator  by  tem- 
perament  and  a  promoter  by  preference.  If  you  were  a 
summer  resident  of  importance  and  needed  anything  from  a 
sewing-machine  to  a  Holstein  heifer,  Mr.  Ball,  the  grocer, 
would  accommodate  you.  When  Mrs.  Pomfret's  cook  be- 
same  inebriate  and  refractory,  Mr.  Ball  was  sent  for,  and 
snticed  her  to  the  station  and  on  board  of  a  train;  when 
bhe  Chillinghams'  tank  overflowed,  Mr.  Ball  found  the 
aroper  valve  ancjl  saved  the  house  from  being  washed  away. 
And  it  was  he  who,  after  Mrs.  Pomfret,  took  the  keenest 
interest  in  Mr.  Crewe's  campaign.  At  length  came  one 
lay  when  Mr.  Ore  we  pulled  up  in  front  of  the  grocery  store 
and  called,  as  his  custom  was,  loudly  for  Mr.  Ball.  The 
fact  that  Mr.  Ball  was  waiting  on  customers  made  no  differ 
ence,  and  presently  that  gentleman  appeared,  rubbing  his 
bands  together. 

"  How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Ore  we  ?"  he  said,  "  automobile 
goiug  all  right  ?  " 

"  What's  the  matter  with  these  fellers  ? "  said  Mr. 
Crewe.  "  Haven't  I  done  enough  for  the  town  ?  Didn't  I 
get  'em  rural  free  delivery  ?  Didn't  I  subscribe  to  the 
meeting-house  and  library,  and  don't  I  pay  more  taxes 
than  anybody  else  ?  " 

"  Certain,"  assented  Mr.  Ball,  eagerly,  "  certain  you 
do."  It  did  not  seem  to  occur  to  him  that  it  was  un 
fair  to  make  him  responsible  for  the  scurvy  ingratitude  of 
his  townsmen.  He  stepped  gingerly  down  into  the  dust 
and  climbed  up  on  the  tool  box. 

"  Look  out,"  said  Mr.  Crewe,  "  don't  scratch  the  varnish. 
What  is  it  ?  " 

Mr.  Ball  shifted  obediently  to  the  rubber-covered  step, 
and  bent  his  face  to  his  patron's  ear. 

44  It's  railrud,"  he  said. 

"  Railroad !  "  shouted  Mr.  Crewe,  in  a  voice  that  made 
the  grocer  clutch  his  arm  in  terror.  "  Don't  pinch  me  like 


88  MR.   CREWE'S  CAREER 

that.     Railroad!     This  town  ain't  within  ten  miles  of  the 
railroad." 

"  For  the  love  of  David,"  said  Mr.  Ball,  "  don't  talk  s<* 
loud,  Mr.  Crewe." 

"  What's  the  railroad  got  to  do  with  it  ?  "  Mr.  Crewej 
demanded. 

Mr.  Ball  glanced  around  him,  to  make  sure  that  no  one] 
was  within  shouting  distance. 

"What's  the  railrud  got  to  do  with  anything  in  this] 
State  ?  "  inquired  Mr.  Ball,  craftily. 

"  That's  different,"  said  Mr.  Crewe,  shortly,  "  I'm  a  cor 
poration  man  myself.  They've  got  to  defend  'emselves." 

"Certain.     I  ain't  got  anything  again'  'em,"  Mr.  Ballj 
agreed  quickly.     "  I  guess  they  know  what  they're  about.] 
By  the  bye,  Mr.  Crewe,"  he  added,  coming  dangerousl} 
near  the  varnish  again,  and  drawing  back,  "you  hain' 
happened  to  have  seen  Job  Braden,  have  you  ?  " 

"  Job  Braden  !  "  exclaimed  Mr.   Crewe,  "  Job  Braden 
What's  all  this  mystery  about  Job  Braden  ?     Somebod1 
whispers  that  name  in  my  ear  every  day.     If  you  mean 
that  smooth-faced  cuss  that  stutters  and  lives  on  Braden's 
Hill,  I  called  on  him,  but  he  was  out.     If  you  see  him 
tell  him  to  come  up  to  Wedderburn,  and  I'll  talk  with 
him." 

Mr.  Ball  made  a  gesture  to  indicate  a  feeling  dividec 
between  respect  for  Mr.  Crewe  and  despair  at  the  hardi 
hood  of  such  a  proposition. 

"  Lord  bless  you,  sir,  Job  wouldn't  go." 

"  Wouldn't  go  ?  " 

4  He  never  pays  visits,  —  folks  go  to  him." 

"  He'd  come  to  see  me,  wouldn't  he  ?  " 

"I  —  I'm  afraid  not,  Mr.  Crewe.  Job  holds  his  comb 
rather  high." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  this  two-for-a-cent  town  has  a 
boss  ?  " 

"  Silas  Grantley  was  born  here,"  said  Mr.  Ball  —  for 
even  the  worm  will  turn.  "  This  town's  got  a  noble  his- 
tory." 

"I  don't  care  anything  about  Silas    Grantley.     What 


THE   LEOPARD   AND   HIS   SPOTS  89 

want  to  know  is,  how  this  rascal  manages  to  make 
nything  out  of  the  political  pickings  of  a  town  like 
,eith." 

"Well,  Job  ain't  exactly  a  rascal,  Mr.  Crewe.  He's 
ot  a  good  many  of  them  hill  farmers  in  a  position  of  — 
f  gratitude.  Enough  to  control  the  Republican  caucus." 

"Do  you  mean  he  buys  their  votes?"  demanded  Mr. 
Drewe. 

'-  It's  like  this,"  explained  Mr.  Ball,  "  if  one  of  'em  falls 
ehind  in  his  grocery  bill,  for  example,  he  can  always  get 
noney  from  Job.  Job  takes  a  mortgage,  but .  he  don't 
ften  close  down  on  '.m.  And  Job  has  been  collecting 
redentials  in  Avalon  County  for  upward  of  forty  years." 

4  Collecting  credentials?  " 

4  Yes.  Gets  a  man  nominated  to  State  and  county  con- 
rentions  that  can't  go,  and  goes  himself  with  a  bunch  of 
redentials.  He's  in  a  position  to  negotiate.  He  was  in 
11  them  railrud  fights  with  Jethro  Bass,  and  now  he 
.oes  business  with  Hilary  Vane  or  Brush  Bascom  when 
nything  especial's  goin'  on.  You'd  ought  to  see  him, 
\Ir.  Crewe." 

"  I  guess  I  won't  waste  my  time  with  any  picayune 
>oss  if  the  United  Northeastern  Railroads  has  any  hand  in 
his  matter,"  declared  Mr.  Crewe.  "  Wind  her  up." 

This  latter  remark  was  addressed  to  a  long-suffering 
jhauffeur  who  looked  like  a  Sicilian  brigand. 

"I  didn't  exactly  like  to  suggest  it,"  said  Mr.  Ball, 
rubbing  his  hands  and  raising  his  voice  above  the  whir 
of  the  machine,  "but  of  course  I  knew  Mr.  Flint  was  an 
ntimate  friend.  A  word  to  him  from  you  —  " 

But  by  this  Mr.  Crewe  had  got  in  his  second  speed 
and  was  sweeping  around  a  corner  lined  with  farmers' 
teams,  whose  animals  were  behaving  like  circus  horses. 
On  his  own  driveway,  where  he  arrived  in  incredibly  brief 
time,  he  met  his  stenographer,  farm  superintendent,  sec 
retary,  housekeeper,  and  general  utility  man,  Mr.  Raikes. 
Mr.  Raikes  was  elderly,  and  showed  signs  of  needing  a 
vacation. 

"Telephone  Mr.   Flint,  Raikes,  and  tell  him  I  would 


90  MR.    CREWE'S   CAREER 

like  an  appointment  at  his  earliest  convenience,  on  imJ 
portant  business." 

Mr.  Raikes,  who  was  going  for  his  daily  stroll  beside] 
the  river,  wheeled  and  made  for  the  telephone,  and 
brought  back  the  news  that  Mr.  Flint  would  be  happy 
to  see  Mr.  Crewe  the  next  afternoon  at  four  o'clock. 

This  interview,  about  which   there  has  been  so  much! 
controversy  in  the  newspapers,  and  denials  and  counter-] 
denials  from  the  press  bureaus  of  both  gentlemen,  —  this! 
now  historic  interview  began  at  four  o'clock  precisely  the] 
next  day.     At  that  hour  Mr.    Crewe  was  ushered  into} 
that  little  room   in  which    Mr.    Flint  worked  when   atj 
Fairview.     Like  Frederick  the   Great  and  other  famous 
captains,  Mr.  Flint  believed  in  an  iron  bedstead  regime. 
The  magnate  was,  as  usual,  fortified  behind  his  oak  desk;; 
the  secretary  with  a  bend  in  his  back  was  in  modest  evi 
dence  ;    and  an  elderly  man  of  comfortable  proportions,1 
with  a  large  gold  watch-charm  portraying  the  rising  suni 
and  who  gave,  somehow,  the    polished   impression    of   a 
marble,  sat  near  the  window  smoking  a  cigar.    Mr.  Crew* 
approached  the  desk  with  that  genial  and  brisk  mannei 
for  which  he  was  noted  and  held  out  his  hand  to  the  rail 
road  president. 

^  "We  are  both  business  men,  and  both  punctual,  Mr. 
Flint,"  he  said,  and  sat  down  in  the  empty  chair  besidi 
his  host,  eyeing  without  particular  favour  him  of  tin 
watch-charm,  whose  cigar  was  not  a  very  good  one.  "." 
wanted  to  have  a  little  private  conversation  with  yoi 
which  might  be  of  considerable  interest  to  us  both."  Ant 
Mr.  Crewe  laid  down  on  the  desk  a  somewhat  formidabL 
roll  of  papers. 

"I  trust  the  presence  of  Senator  Whitredge  will  not 
deter  you,"  answered  Mr.  Flint.  "He  is  an  old  friend! 
of  mine." 

Mr.  Crewe  was  on  his  feet  again  with  surprising  alacrity,] 
and  beside  the  senator's  chair. 

"How  are  you,  Senator?"  he  said.  "I  have  never  had; 
the  pleasure  of  meeting  you,  but  I  know  you  by  reputa-i 
tion." 


THE  LEOPARD   AND   HIS   SPOTS  91 

The  senator  got  to  his  feet.  They  shook  hands,  and 
exchanged  cordial  greetings  ;  and  during  the  exchange 
Mr.  Crewe  looked  out  of  the  window,  and  the  senator's 
eyes  were  fixed  on  the  telephone  receiver  on  Mr.  Flint's 
desk.  As  neither  gentleman  took  hold  of  the  other's 
fingers  very  hard,  they  fell  apart  quickly. 

"  I  am  very  happy  to  meet  you,  Mr.  Crewe,"  said  the 
senator.  Mr.  Crewe  sat  down  again,  and  not  being 
hampered  by  those  shrinking  qualities  so  fatal  to  success 
he  went  on  immediately:  — 

"There  is  nothing  which  I  have  to  say  that  the  sen 
ator  cannot  hear.  I  made  the  appointment  with  you,  Mr. 
Flint,  to  talk  over  a  matter  which  may  be  of  considerable 
importance  to  us  both.  I  have  made  up  my  mind  to  go 
to  the  Legislature." 

Mr.  Crewe  naturally  expected  to  find  visible  effects  of 
astonishment  and  joy  on  the  faces  of  his  hearers  at  such 
not  inconsiderable  news.  Mr.  Flint,  however,  looked  seri 
ous  enough,  though  the  senator  smiled  as  he  blew  his 
smoke  out  of  the  window. 

"Have  you  seen  Job  Braden,  Mr.  Crewe?"  he  asked,       , 
with  genial  jocoseness.     "  They  tell  me  that  Job  is  still 
alive  and  kicking  over  in  your  parts." 

"  Thank  you,  Senator,"  said  Mr.  Crewe,  "  that  brings 
me  to  the  very  point  I  wish  to  emphasize.  Everywhere 
in  Leith  I  am  met  with  the  remark,  '  Have  you  seen  Job 
Braden  ? '  And  I  always  answer,  4  No,  I  haven't  seen 
Mr.  Braden,  and  I  don't  intend  to  see  him.' ' 

Mr.  Whitredge  laughed,  and  blew  out  a  ring  of  smoke. 
Mr.  Flint's  face  remained  sober. 

"  Now,  Mr.  Flint,"  Mr.  Crewe  went  on,  "  you  and  I 
understand  each  other,  and  we're  on  the  same  side  of  the 
fence.  I  have  inherited  some  interests  in  corporations 
myself,  and  I  have  acquired  an  interest  in  others.  I  am  a 
director  in  several.  I  believe  that  it  is  the  duty  of 
property  to  protect  itself,  and  the  duty  of  all  good  men  in 
politics,  —  such  as  the  senator  here,"  —  (bow  from  Mr. 
Whitredge)  "  to  protect  property.  I  am  a  practical  man, 
and  I  think  I  can  convince  you,  if  you  don't  see  it  already, 


92  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

that  my  determination  to  go  to  the  Legislature  is  an  ad-l 
vantageous  thing  for  your  railroad." 

"  The  advent  of  a  reputable  citizen  into  politics  is 
always  a  good  thing  for  the  railroad,  Mr.  Crewe,"  said 
Mr.  Flint. 

"  Exactly,"  Mr.  Crewe  agreed,  ignoring  the  non-commit-j 
tal  quality  of  this  remark,  "  and  if  you  get  a  citizen  whcl 
is  a  not  inconsiderable  property  holder,  a  gentleman,  and  a| 
college  graduate,  —  a  man  who,  by  study  and  predilec-J 
tion,  is  qualified  to  bring  about  improved  conditions  in  thej 
State,  so  much  the  better." 

"  So  much  the  better,"  said  Mr.  Flint. 

"  I  thought   you  would  see  it  that  way,"  Mr.    Crewe] 
continued.     "  Now   a    man   of    your   calibre   must   have) 
studied  to  some  extent  the  needs  of  the  State,  and  it  must! 
have  struck  you  that   certain  improvements  go   hand  in 
hand  with  the  prosperity  of  your  railroad." 

"  Have  a  cigar,  Mr.  Crewe.  Have  another,  Senator  ?  " 
said  Mr.  Flint.  "  I  think  that  is  safe  as  a  general  propo 
sition,  'Mr.  Crewe." 

"  To  specify,"  said  Mr.  Crewe,  laying  his  hand  on  the 
roll  of  papers  he  had  brought,  "  I  have  here  bills  which  I 
have  carefully  drawn  up  and  which  I  will  leave  for  your 
consideration.  One  is  to  issue  bonds  for  ten  millions  to 
build  State  roads." 

"  Ten  millions  ! "  said  Mr.  Flint,  and  the  senator 
whistled  mildly. 

"Think  about  it,"  said  Mr.  Crewe,  "  the  perfection 
of  the  highways  through  the  State,  instead  of  decreasing 
your  earnings,  would  increase  them  tremendously.  Vis 
itors  by  the  tens  of  thousands  would  come  in  automobiles, 
and  remain  and  buy  summer  places.  The  State  would 
have  its  money  back  in  taxes  and  business  in  no  time  at 
all.  I  wonder  somebody  hasn't  seen  it  before  —  the 
stupidity  of  the  country  legislator  is  colossal.  And  we 
want  forestry  laws,  and  laws  for  improving  the  condition 
of  the  farmers  —  all  practical  things.  They  are  all  there," 
Mr.  Crewe  declared,  slapping  the  bundle  ;  "  read  them, 
Mr.  Flint.  If  you  have  any  suggestions  to  make,  kindly 


THE   LEOPARD  AND   HIS   SPOTS  93 

mote  them  on  the  margin,  and  I  shall  be  glad  to  go  over 
jthem  with  you." 

By  this  time  the  senator  was  in  a  rare  posture  for  him 
he  was  seated  upright. 

"  As  you  know,  I  am  a  very  busy  man,  Mr.  Crewe," 
[  the  railroad  president. 

No  one  appreciates  that  more   fully  than   I   do,  Mr. 
[Flint,"  said  Mr.   Crewe;  "I  haven't  many  idle  hours  my- 
jlf.     I  think  you  will  find  the  bills  and  my  comments  on 
them  well  worth   your   consideration  from   the   point   of 
riew    of   advantage    to   your   railroad.     They    are   type 
written,  and  in  concrete  form.     In  fact,  the  Northeastern 
(Railroads  and  myself  must  work  together  to  our  mutual 
idvantage  —  that  has  become  quite  clear  to  me.     I  shall 
ive  need  of  your  help  in  passing  the  measures." 
"  I'm  afraid  I  don't  quite  understand  you,  Mr.  Crewe," 
dd  Mr.  Flint,  putting  down  the  papers. 
44  That  is,"  said  Mr.    Crewe,   44  if  you  approve  of  the 
tills,  and  I  am  confident  that  I  shall  be  able  to  convince 

)U." 

44  What  do  you  want  me  to  do  ? "  asked  the  railroad 
resident. 

44  Well,  in  the  first  place,"  said  Mr.  Crewe,  unabashed, 
44  send  word  to  your  man  Braden  that  you've  seen  me 
md  it's  all  right." 

I  assure  you,"  answered  Mr.  Flint,  giving  evidence 
for  the  first  time  of  a  loss  of  patience,  44  that  neither  the 
Tortheastern  Railroads  nor  myself,  have  any  more  to  do 
with  this  Braden  than  you  have." 

Mr.  Crewe,  being  a  man  of  the  world,  looked  incredulous. 
44  Senator,"  Mr.  Flint  continued,  turning  to  Mr.  Whit- 
jdge,  44  you  know  as  much  about  politics  in  this  State  as 
my  man  of  my  acquaintance,  have  you  ever  heard  of  any 
miiection  between   this    Braden  and   the    Northeastern 
lil roads  ?  " 

The   senator  had   a   laugh   that  was   particularly  dis- 
rrning. 

44  Bless  your  soul,  no,"  he  replied.     44  You  will  pardon 
ie,  Mr.  Crewe,  but  you  must  have  been  listening  to  some 


94  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

farmer's  tale.  The  railroad  is  the  bugaboo  in  all  these 
country  romances.  I've  seen  old  Job  Braden  at  conven 
tions  ever  since  I  was  a  lad.  He's  a  back  number,  one 
of  the  few  remaining  disciples  and  imitators  of  Jetliro 
Bass:  talks  like  him  and  acts  like  him.  In  the  old  days 
when  there  were  a  lot  of  little  railroads,  he  and  Bijah 
Bixby  and  a  few  others  used  to  make  something  out  of 
them,  but  since  the  consolidation,  and  Mr.  Flint's  presi 
dency,  Job  stays  at  home.  They  tell  me  he  runs  Leith 
yet.  You'd  better  go  over  and  fix  it  up  with  him." 

A  somewhat  sarcastic  smile  of  satisfaction  was  playing 
over  Mr.  Flint's  face  as  he  listened  to  the  senator's  words. 
As  a  matter  of  fact,  they  were  very  nearly  true  as  regarded 
Job  Braden,  but  Mr.  Crewe  may  be  pardoned  for  thinking 
that  Mr.  Flint  was  not  showing  him  quite  the  confidence  due 
from  one  business  and  corporation  man  to  another.  He 
was  by  no  means  abashed,  —  Mr.  Crewe  had  too  much  spirit 
for  that.  He  merely  became  —  as  a  man  whose  watch 
word  is  "thorough"  will  —  a  little  more  combative. 

"  Well,  read  the  bills  anyway,  Mr.  Flint,  and  I'll  come 
and  go  over  them  with  you.  You  can't  fail  to  see  my  argu 
ments,  and  all  I  ask  is  that  you  throw  the  weight  of  your 
organization  at  the  State  capital  for  them  when  they 
come  up." 

Mr.  Flint  drummed  on  the  table. 

"  The  men  who  have  held  office  in  this  State,"  he  said, 
"  have  always  been  willing  to  listen  to  any  suggestion  I 
may  have  thought  proper  to  make  to  them.  This  is  un 
doubtedly  because  I  am  at  the  head  of  the  property  which 
pays  the  largest  taxes.  Needless  to  say  I  am  chary  of 
making  suggestions.  But  I  am  surprised  that  you  should 
have  jumped  at  a  conclusion  which  is  the  result  of  a  popular 
and  unfortunately  prevalent  opinion  that  the  Northeastern 
Railroads  meddled  in  any  way  with  the  government  or 
politics  of  this  State.  I  am  glad  of  this  opportunity  of 
assuring  you  that  we  do  not,"  he  continued,  leaning  for 
ward  and  holding  up  his  hand  to  ward  off  interruption, 
"  and  I  know  that  Senator  Whitredge  will  bear  me  out  in 
this  statement,  too." 


THE   LEOPARD   AND   HIS  SPOTS  95 

The  senator  nodded  gravely.  Mr.  Crewe,  who  was 
anything  but  a  fool,  and  just  as  assertive  as  Mr.  Flint,  cut 
in. 

"  Look  here,  Mr.  Flint,"  he  said,  "I  know  what  a  lobby 
is.  I  haven't  been  a  director  in  railroads  myself  for  noth 
ing.  I  have  no  objection  to  a  lobby.  You  employ  counsel 
before  the  Legislature,  don't  you  —  " 

"  We  do,"  said  Mr.  Flint,  interrupting,  "  the  best  and 
most  honourable  counsel  we  can  find  in  the  State.  When 
necessary,  they  appear  before  the  legislative  committees. 
As  a  property  holder  in  the  State,  and  an  admirer  of  its 
beauties,  and  as  its  well-wisher,  it  will  give  me  great 
pleasure  to  look  over  your  bills,  and  use  whatever  per 
sonal  influence  I  may  have  as  a  citizen  to  forward  them, 
should  they  meet  my  approval.  And  I  am  especially  glad 
to  do  this  as  a  neighbour,  Mr.  Crewe.  As  a  neighbour," 
he  repeated,  significantly. 

The  president  of  the  Northeastern  Railroads  rose  as  he 
spoke  these  words,  and  held  out  his  hand  to  Mr.  Crewe. 
It  was  perhaps  a  coincidence  that  the  senator  rose  also. 

"  All  right,"  said  Mr.  Crewe,  "  I'll  call  around  again  in 
about  two  weeks.  Come  and  see  me  sometime,  Senator." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  the  senator,  "  I  shall  be  happy. 
And  if  you  are  ever  in  your  automobile  near  the  town  of 
Ramsey,  stop  at  my  little  farm,  Mr.  Crewe.  I  trust  to 
be  able  soon  to  congratulate  you  on  a  step  which  I  am 
sure  will  be  but  the  beginning  of  a  long  and  brilliant 
political  career." 

"  Thanks,"  said  Mr.  Crewe  ;  "  by  the  bye,  if  you  could 
see  your  way  to  drop  a  hint  to  that  feller  Braden,  I  should 
be  much  obliged." 

The  senator  shook  his  head  and  laughed. 

"  Job  is  an  independent  cuss,"  he  said,  "  I'm  afraid  he'd 
regard  that  as  an  unwarranted  trespass  on  his  preserves." 

Mr.  Crewe  was  ushered  out  by  the  stooping  secretary, 
Mr.  Freeman;  who,  instead  of  seizing  Mr.  Crewe's  hand 
as  he  had  Austen  Vane's,  said  not  a  word.  But  Mr. 
Crewe  would  have  been  interested  if  he  could  have  heard 
Mr.  Flint's  first  remark  to  the  senator  after  the  door  was 


96  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

closed  on  his  back.  It  did  not  relate  to  Mr.  Crewe,  but 
to  the  subject  under  discussion  which  he  had  interrupted ; 
namely,  the  Republican  candidates  for  the  twenty  sena 
torial  districts  of  the  State. 

On  its  way  back  to  Leith  the  red  motor  paused  in  front 
of  Mr.  Ball's  store,  and  that  gentleman  was  summoned  in 
the  usual  manner. 

"  Do  you  see  this  Braden  once  in  a  while  ?  "  Mr.  Crewe 
demanded. 

Mr.  Ball  looked  knowing. 

"  Tell  him  I  want  to  have  a  talk  with  him,"  said  Mr. 
Crewe.  "I've  been  to  see  Mr.  Flint,  and  I  think  matters 
can  be  arranged.  And  mind  you,  no  word  about  this, 
Ball." 

"  I  guess  I  understand  a  thing  or  two,"  said  Mr.  Ball. 
"Trust  me  to  handle  it." 

Two  days  later,  as  Mr.  Crewe  was  seated  in  his  study, 
his  man  entered  and  stood  respectfully  waiting  for  tlie 
time  when  he  should  look  up  from  his  book. 

"  Well,  what  is  it  now,  Waters  ?  " 

"  If  you  please,  sir,"  said  the  man,  "  a  strange  message 
has  come  over  the  telephone  just  now  that  you  were  to  be 
in  room  number  twelve  of  the  Ripton  House  to-morrow  at 
ten  o'clock.  They  wouldn't  give  any  name,  sir,"  added 
the  dignified  Waters,  who,  to  tell  the  truth,  was  some 
what  outraged,  "  nor  tell  where  they  telephoned  from. 
But  it  was  a  man's  voice,  sir." 

"  All  right,"  said  Mr.  Crewe. 

He  spent  much  of  the  afternoon  and  evening  debating 
whether  or  not  his  dignity  would  permit  him  to  go.  But 
he  ordered  the  motor  at  half-past  nine,  and  at  ten  o'clock 
precisely  the  clerk  at  the  Ripton  House  was  bowing  to 
him  and  handing  him,  deferentially,  a  dripping  pen. 

"Where's  room  number  twelve?"  said  the  direct  Mr. 
Crewe. 

"  Oh,"  said  the  clerk,  and  possessing  a  full  share  of  the 
worldly  wisdom  of  his  calling,  he  smiled  broadly.  "  I 
guess  you'll  find  him  up  there,  Mr.  Crewe.  Front,  show 
the  gentleman  to  number  twelve." 


THE   LEOPARD   AND   HIS   SPOTS  97 

The  hall  boy  knocked  on  the  door  of  number  twelve. 
"  C-come  in,"  said  a  voice.  "  Come  in." 
Mr.  Crewe  entered,  the  hall  boy  closed  the  door,  and  he 
found  himself  face  to  face  with  a  comfortable,  smooth 
faced  man  seated  with  great  placidity  on  a  rocking-chair 
in  the  centre  of  the  room,  between  the  bed  and  the 
marble-topped  table:  a  man  to  whom,  evidently,  a  rich 
abundance  of  thought  was  sufficient  company,  for  he  had 
neither  newspaper  nor  book.  He  rose  in  a  leisurely 
fashion,  and  seemed  the  very  essence  of  the  benign  as  he 
stretched  forth  his  hand. 

"  I'm  Mr.  Crewe,"  the  owner  of  that  name  proclaimed, 
accepting  the  hand  with  no  exaggeration  of  cordiality. 
The  situation  jarred  on  him  a  trifle. 

"  I  know.  Seed  you  on  the  road  once  or  twice.  How 
be  you  ?  " 

Mr.  Crewe  sat  down. 
"  I  suppose  you  are  Mr.  Braden,"  he  said. 
Mr.  Braden  sank  into  the  rocker  and  fingered  a  waist 
coat  pocket  full  of  cigars  that  looked  like  a  section  of  a 
cartridge-belt. 

"  T-try  one  of  mine,"  he  said. 

"  I  only  smoke  once  after  breakfast,"  said  Mr.  Crewe. 
"Abstemious,  be  you  ?      Never  could  find  that  it  did 
me  any  hurt." 

This  led  to  an  awkward  pause,  Mr.  Crewe  not  being  a 
man  who  found  profit  in  idle  discussion.  He  glanced 
at  Mr.  Braden's  philanthropic  and  beaming  countenance, 
which  would  have  made  the  fortune  of  a  bishop.  It  was 
not  usual  for  Mr.  Crewe  to  find  it  difficult  to  begin  a 
conversation,  or  to  have  a  companion  as  self-sufficient  as 
himself.  This  man  Braden  had  all  the  fun,  apparently, 
in  sitting  in  a  chair  and  looking  into  space  that  Stonewall 
Jackson  had,  or  an  ordinary  man  in  watching  a  perform 
ance  of  "  A  Trip  to  Chinatown."  Let  it  not  be  inferred, 
again,  that  Mr.  Crewe  was  abashed;  but  he  was  puzzled. 
"  I  had  an  engagement  in  Ripton  this  morning,"  he 
said,  "  to  see  about  some  business  matters.  And  after  I 
received  your  telephone  I  thought  I'd  drop  in  here." 


98  MR.   CREWE'S  CAREER 

"  Didn't  telephone,"  said  Mr.  Braden,  placidly. 

"  What  !  "  said  Mr.  Crewe,  "  I  certainly  got  a  telephone 
message." 

"  N-never  telephone,"  said  Mr.  Braden. 

"  I  certainly  got  a  message  from  you,"  Mr.  Crewe 
protested. 

"Didn't  say  it  was  from  me — didn't  say  so — did 
they  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Mr.  Crewe,  "  but  —  " 

"  Told  Ball  you  wanted  to  have  me  see  you,  didn't 
you?" 

Mr.  Crewe,  when  he  had  unravelled  this  sentence,  did 
not  fancy  the  way  it  was  put. 

"  I  told  Ball  I  was  seeing  everybody  in  Leith,"  he 
answered,  "  and  that  I  had  called  on  you,  and  you  weren't 
at  home.  Ball  inferred  that  you  had  a  somewhat  singular 
way  of  seeing  people." 

"  You  don't  understand,"  was  Mr.  Braden's  somewhat 
enigmatic  reply. 

"  I  understand  pretty  well,"  said  Mr.  Crewe.  "  I'm  a 
candidate  for  the  Republican  nomination  for  represen 
tative  from  Leith,  and  I  want  your  vote  and  influence. 
You  probably  know  what  I  have  done  for  the  town,  and 
that  I'm  the  biggest  taxpayer,  and  an  all-the-y ear-round 
resident." 

"  S-some  in  Noo  York  —  hain't  you  ?  " 

"  Well,  you  can't  expect  a  man  in  my  position  and  with 
my  interests  to  stay  at  home  all  the  time.  I  feel  that  I 
have  a  right  to  ask  the  town  for  this  nomination.  I 
have  some  bills  here  which  I'll  request  you  to  read  over, 
and  you  will  see  that  I  have  ideas  which  are  of  real 
value  to  the  State.  The  State  needs  waking  up  —  pro 
gressive  measures.  You're  a  farmer,  ain't  you  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  have  be'n." 

"  I  can  improve  the  condition  of  the  farmer  one  hundred 
per  cent,  and  if  my  road  system  is  followed,  he  can  get  his 
goods  to  market  for  about  a  tenth  of  what  it  costs  him 
now.  We  have  infinitely  valuable  forests  in  the  State 
which  are  being  wasted  by  lumbermen,  which  ought 


THE   LEOPARD  AND   HIS   SPOTS  99 

to  be  preserved.  You  read  those  bills,  and  what  I  have 
written  about  them." 

"  You  don't  understand,"  said  Mr.  Braden,  drawing  a 
little  closer  and  waving  aside  the  manuscript  with  his 
cigar. 

"  Don't  understand  what  ?  " 

"  Don't  seem  to  understand,"  repeated  Mr.  Braden, 
confidingly  laying  his  hand  on  Mr.  Crewe's  knee.  "Can 
didate  for  representative,  be  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  replied  Mr.  Crewe,  who  was  beginning  to  resent 
the  manner  in  which  he  deemed  he  was  being  played  with, 
"I  told  you  I  was." 

"  M-made  .all  them  bills  out  before  you  was  chose  ?  "  said 
Mr.  Braden. 

Mr.  Crewe  grew  red  in  the  face. 

"  I  am  interested  in  these  questions,"  he  said  stiffly. 

"  Little  mite  hasty,  wahn't  it  ?  "  Mr.  Braden  remarked 
equably,  "  but  you've  got  plenty  of  time  and  money  to  fool 
with  such  things,  if  you've  a  mind  to.  Them  don't  amount 
to  a  hill  of  beans  in  politics.  Nobody  pays  any  attention 
to  that  sort  of  fireworks  down  to  the  capital,  and  if  they 
was  to  get  into  committee  them  Northeastern  Railroads 
fellers'd  bury  'em  deeper  than  the  bottom  of  Salem  pond. 
They  don't  want  no  such  things  as  them  to  pass." 

"  Pardon  me,"  said  Mr.  Crewe,  "  but  you  haven't  read 
'em." 

"I  know  what  they  be,"  said  Mr.  Braden,  "  I've  be'n  in 
politics  more  years  than  you've  be'n  livin',  I  guess.  I 
don't  want  to  read  'em,"  he  announced,  his  benign  manner 
unchanged. 

"  I  think  you  have  made  a  mistake  so  far  as  the  railroad 
is  concerned,  Mr.  Braden,"  said  Mr.  Crewe,  "  I'm  a 
practical  man  myself,  and  I  don't  indulge  in  moonshine. 
I  am  a  director  in  one  or  two  railroads^  I  have  talked 
this  matter  over  with  Mr.  Flint,  and  incidentally  with 
Senator  Whitredge." 

"  Knowed  Whitredge  afore  you  had  any  teeth,"  said 
Mr.  Braden,  who  did  not  seem  to  be  greatly  impressed, 
"  know  him  intimate.  What'd  you  go  to  Flint  for  ?  " 


100  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

"  We  have  interests  in  common,"  said  Mr.  Crewe,  "  and 
I  am  rather  a  close  friend  of  his.  My  going  to  the 
Legislature  will  be,  I  think,  to  our  mutual  advantage." 

O-ought  to  have  come  right  to  me"  said  Mr.  Braden, 
leaning  over  until  his  face  was  in  close  proximity  to 
Mr.  prewe's.  "  Whitredge  told  you  to  come  to  me,  didn't 

Mr.  Crewe  was  a  little  taken  aback. 

"  The  senator  mentioned  your  name,"  he  admitted. 

"  He  knows.  Said  I  was  the  man  to  see  if  you  was  a 
candidate,  didn't  lie  ?  Told  you  to  talk  to  Job  Braden, 
didn't  he  ?  " 

^  Now  Mr.  Crewe  had  no  means  of  knowing  whether 
Senator  Whitredge  had  been  in  conference  with  Mr. 
Braden  or  not.  " 

"  The  senator  mentioned  your  name  casually,  in  some 
connection,"  said  Mr.  Crewe. 

"  He  knows,"  Mr.  Braden  repeated,  with  a  finality  that 
spoke  volumes  for  the  senator's  judgment;  and  he  bent 
over  into  Mr.  Crewe's  ear,  with  the  air  of  conveying  a 
mild  but  well-merited  reproof,  "You'd  ought  to  come 
right  to  me  in  the  first  place.  I  could  have  saved  you 
all  that  unnecessary  trouble  of  seem'  folks.  There  hasn't 
be'n  a  representative  left  the  town  of  Leith  for  thirty 
years  that  I  hain't  agreed  to.  Whitredge  knows  that. 
If  I  say  you  kin  go,  you  kin  go.  You  understand,"  said 
Mr.  Braden,  with  his  fingers  on  Mr.  Crewe's  knee  once 
more. 

Five  minutes  later  Mr.  Crewe  emerged  into  the  daz 
zling  sun  of  the  Ripton  square,  climbed  into  his  automobile, 
and  turned  its  head  towards  Leith,  strangely  forgetting 
the  main  engagement  which  he  said  had  brought  "him  to 
town. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE   TRIALS    OF   AN   HONOURABLE 

IT  was  about  this  time  that  Mr.  Humphrey  Crewe  was 
transformed,  by  one  of  those  subtle  and  inexplicable 
changes  which  occur  in  American  politics,  into  the  Honour 
able  Humphrey  Crewe.  And,  as  interesting  bits  of  news 
about  important  people  are  bound  to  leak  out,  it  became 
known  in  Leith  that  he  had  subscribed  to  what  is  known 
as  a  Clipping  Bureau.  Two  weeks  after  the  day  he  left 
Mr.  Braden's  presence  in  the  Ripton  House  the  principal 
newspapers  of  the  country  contained  the  startling  an 
nouncement  that  the  well-known  summer  colony  of  Leith 
was  to  be  represented  in  the  State  Legislature  by  a  million 
aire.  The  Republican  nomination,  which  Mr.  Crewe  had 
secured,  was  equivalent  to  an  election. 

For  a  little  time  after  that  Mr.  Crewe,  although  naturally 
an  important  and  busy  man,  scarcely  had  time  to  nod  to 
his  friends  on  the  road. 

"  Poor  dear  Humphrey,"  said  Mrs.  Pomfret,  "  who  was  so 
used  to  dropping  in  to  dinner,  hasn't  had  a  moment  to  write 
me  a  line  to  thank  me  for  the  statesman's  diary  I  bought 
for  him  in  London  this  spring.  They're  in  that  new  red 
leather,  and  Aylestone  says  he  finds  his  so  useful.  I 
dropped  in  at  Wedderburn  to-day  to  see  if  I  could  be  of 
any  help,  and  the  poor  man  was  buttonholed  by  two 
reporters  who  had  come  all  the  way  from  New  York  to  see 
him.  I  hope  he  won't  overdo  it." 

It  was  true.  Mr.  Crewe  was  to  appear  in  the  Sunday 
supplements.  "  Are  our  Millionaires  entering  Politics  ?  " 
Mr.  Crewe,  with  his  usual  gracious  hospitality,  showed 
the  reporters  over  the  place,  and  gave  them  suggestions 
as  to  the  best  vantage-points  in  which  to  plant  their 

101 


102  MR.   CBEWE'3   CAREER 

cameras.  He  himself  was  at  length  prevailed  upon  to  be 
taken  in  a  rough  homespun  suit,  and  with  a  walking-stick 
in  his  hand,  appraising  with  a  knowing  eye  a  flock  of  his 
own  sheep.  Pressed  a  little,  he  consented  to  relate  some 
thing  of  the  systematic  manner  in  which  he  had  gone 
about  to  secure  this  nomination  :  how  he  had  visited  in 
person  the  homes  of  his  fellow-townsmen.  "  I  knew  them 
all,  anyway,"  he  is  quoted  as  saying;  "we  have  had  the 
pleasantest  of  relationships  during  the  many  years  I  have 
been  a  resident  of  Leith." 

"  Beloved  of  his  townspeople,"  this  part  of  the  article 
was  headed.  No,  these  were  not  Mr.  Crewe's  words  —  he 
was  too  modest  for  that.  When  urged  to  give  the  name 
of  one  of  his  townsmen  who  might  deal  with  this  and 
other  embarrassing  topics,  Mr.  Ball  was  mentioned. 
"  Beloved  of  his  townspeople "  was  Mr.  Ball's  phrase. 
"  Although  a  multi-millionaire,  no  man  is  more  consider 
ate  of  the  feelings  and  the  rights  of  his  more  humble 
neighbours.  Send  him  to  the  Legislature  !  We'd  send 
him  to  the  United  States  Senate  if  we  could.  He'll  land 
there,  anyway."  Such  was  a  random  estimate  (Mr.  Ball's) 
the  reporters  gathered  on  their  way  to  Ripton.  Mr. 
Crewe  did  not  hesitate  to  say  that  the  prosperity  of  the 
farmers  had  risen  as  a  result  of  his  labours  at  Wedderburn 
where  the  most  improved  machinery  and  methods  were 
adopted.  His  efforts  to  raise  the  agricultural,  as  well  as 
the  moral  and  intellectual,  tone  of  the  community  had 
been  unceasing. 

Then  followed  an  intelligent  abstract  of  the  bills  he  was 
to  introduce  — "  the  results  of  a  progressive  and  states 
manlike  brain."  There  was  an  account  of  him  as  a  me 
thodical  and  painstaking  business  man  whose  suggestions 
to  the  boards  of  directors  of  which  he  was  a  member  had 
been  invaluable.  The  article  ended  with  a  list  of  the 
clubs  to  which  he  belonged,  of  the  societies  which  he  had 
organized  and  of  those  of  which  he  was  a  member,  —  and 
it  might  have  been  remarked  by  a  discerning  reader  that 
most  of  these  societies  were  State  affairs.  Finally  there 
was  a  pen  portrait  of  an  Apollo  Belvidere  who  wore  the 


THE  TRIALS  OF  AN  HONOURABLE         103 

rough  garb  of  a  farmer  (on  the  days  when  the  press  was 
present). 

Mr.  Crewe's  incessant  trials,  which  would  have  taxed  a 
less  rugged  nature,  did  not  end  here.  About  five  o'clock 
one  afternoon  a  pleasant- appearing  gentleman  with  a  mel 
lifluous  voice  turned  up  who  introduced  himself  as  ex 
(State)  Senator  Grady.  The  senator  was  from  Newcastle, 
that  city  out  of  the  mysterious  depths  of  which  so  many 
political  stars  have  arisen.  Mr.  Crewe  cancelled  a  long- 
deferred  engagement  with  Mrs.  Pomfret,  and  invited  the 
senator  to  stay  to  dinner;  the  senator  hesitated,  explained 
that  he  was  just  passing  through  Ripton,  and,  as  it  was  a 
pleasant  afternoon,  had  called  to  "pay  his  respects";  but 
Mr.  Crewe's  well-known  hospitality  would  accept  no  ex 
cuses.  Mr.  Crewe  opened  a  box  of  cigars  which  he  had 
bought  especially  for  the  taste  of  State  senators  and  a 
particular  grade  of  Scotch  whiskey. 

They  talked  politics  for  four  hours.  Who  would  be 
governor?  The  senator  thought  Asa  Gray  would.  The 
railroad  was  behind  him,  Mr.  Crewe  observed  knowingly. 
The  senator  remarked  that  Mr.  Crewe  was  no  gosling. 
Mr.  Crewe,  as  political  geniuses  will,  asked  as  many 
questions  as  the  emperor  of  Germany  —  pertinent  ques 
tions  about  State  politics.  Senator  Grady  was  tremen 
dously  impressed  with  his  host's  programme  of  bills,  and 
went  over  them  so  painstakingly  that  Mr.  Crewe  be 
came  more  and  more  struck  with  Senator  Grady's  intelli 
gence.  The  senator  told  Mr.  Crewe  that  just  such  a 
man  as  he  was  needed  to  pull  the  State  out  of  the  rut  into 
which  she  had  fallen.  Mr.  Crewe  said  that  he  hoped  to 
find  such  enlightened  men  in  the  Legislature  as  the  senator. 
The  senator  let  it  be  known  that  he  had  read  the  news 
paper  articles,  and  had  remarked  that  Mr.  Crewe  was 
close  to  the  president  of  the  Northeastern  Railroads. 

"  Such  a  man  as  you,"  said  the  senator,  looking  at  the 
remainder  of  the  Scotch  whiskey,  "  will  have  the  railroad 
behind  you,  sure." 

"  One  more  drink,"  said  Mr.  Crewe. 

"  I  must  go,"  said  Mr.  Grady,  pouring  it  out,  "  but  that 


104  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

reminds  me.  It  comes  over  me  sudden-like,  as  I  sit  here, 
that  you  certainly  ought  to  be  in  the  new  encyclopeedie  of 
the  prominent  men  of  the  State.  But  sure  you  have 
received  an  application." 

"It  is  probable  that  my  secretary  has  one,"  said  Mr. 
Crewe,  "but  he  hasn't  called  it  to  my  attention." 

"  You  must  get  in  that  book,  Mr.  Crewe,"  said  the  sen 
ator,  with  an  intense  earnestness  which  gave  the  impres 
sion  of  alarm ;  "  after  what  you've  told  me  to-night  I'll  see 
to  it  myself  that  you  get  in.  It  may  be  that  I've  got 
some  of  the  sample  pages  here,  if  I  haven't  left  them  at 
home,"  said  Mr.  Grady,  fumbling  in  an  ample  inside 
pocket,  and  drawing  forth  a  bundle.  "Sure,  here  they 
are.  Ain't  that  luck  for  you  ?  Listen  !  4  Asa  P.  Gray 
was  born  on  the  third  of  August,  eighteen  forty-seven, 
the  seventh  son  of  a  farmer.'  See,  there's  a  space  in 
the  end  they  left  to  fill  up  when  he's  elicted  governor  1 
Here's  another.  'The  Honourable  Hilary  Vane  comes 
from  one  of  the  oldest  Puritan  families  in  the  State,  the 
Vanes  of  Camden  Street  — '  Here's  another.  '  The  Hon 
ourable  Brush  Bascom  of  Putnam  County  is  the  son  of  poor 
but  honourable  parents  — '  Look  at  the  picture  of  him. 
Ain't  that  a  handsome  steel-engravin'  of  the  gentleman  ?  " 

Mr.  Crewe  gazed  contemplatively  at  the  proof,  but  was 
too  busy  with  his  own  thoughts  to  reflect  that  there  was 
evidently  not  much  poor  or  honourable  about  Mr.  Bascom 
now. 

"  Who's  publishing  this  ?  "  he  asked. 

"Fogarty  and  Company;  sure  they're  the  best  publish 
ers  in  the  State,  as  you  know,  Mr.  Crewe.  They  have 
the  State  printing.  Wasn't  it  fortunate  I  had  the  proofs 
with  me  ?  Tim  Fogarty  slipped  them  into  me  pocket 
when  I  was  leavin'  Newcastle.  '  The  book  is  goin'  to 
press  the  day  after  eliction,'  says  he ;  i  John,'  says  he, 
4  you  know  I  always  rely  on  your  judgment,  and  if  you 
happen  to  think  of  anybody  between  now  and  then  who 
ought  to  go  in,  you'll  notify  me,'  says  he.  When  I  read 
the  bills  to-night,  and  saw  the  scope  of  your  work,  it  came 
over  me  in  a  flash  that  Humphrey  Crewe  was  the  man 


THE  TRIALS   OF   AN   HONOURABLE          105 

they  left  out.  You'll  get  a  good  man  to  write  your  life, 
and  what  you  done  for  the  town  and  State,  and  all  them 
societies  and  bills,  won't  you?  'Twould  be  a  thousand 
pities  not  to  have  it  right." 

"  How  much  does  it  cost  ?  "  Mr.  Crewe  inquired. 

"  Sure  I  forgot  to  ask  Tim  Fogarty.  Mebbe  he  has  it 
here.  I  signed  one  myself,  but  I  couldn't  afford  the  steel- 
engravin'.  Yes,  he  slipped  one  in.  Two  hundred  dollars 
or  a  two-page  biography,  and  three  hundred  for  the  steel- 
ravin'.  Five  hundred  dollars.  I  didn't  know  it  was 
>o  cheap  as  that,"  exclaimed  the  senator,  "  and  everybody 
n  the  State  havin'  to  own  one  in  self-protection.  You 
lon't  happen  to  have  a  pen  about  you  ?  " 

Mr.  Crewe  waved  the  senator  towards  his  own  desk, 
and  Mr.  Grady  filled  out  the  blank. 

"  It's  lucky  we  are  that  I  didn't  drop  in  after  eliction, 
md  the  book  in  press,"  he  remarked ;  "  and  I  hope  you'll 
s^ive  him  a  good  photograph.  This's  for  you,  I'll  take 
;his  to  Tim  myself,"  and  he  handed  the  pen  for  Mr.  Crewe 
to  sign  with. 

Mr.  Crewe  read  over  the  agreement  carefully,  as  a  busi 
ness  man  should,  before  putting  his  signature  to  it.  And 
;hen  the  senator,  with  renewed  invitations  for  Mr.  Crewe 
;o  call  on  him  when  he  came  to  Newcastle,  took  his  de 
parture.  Afterwards  Mr.  Crewe  remained  so  long  in 
reflection  that  his  man  Waters  became  alarmed,  and 
sought  him  out  and  interrupted  his  revery. 

The  next  morning  Mrs.  Pomf ret,  who  was  merely  "  driv 
ing  by  "  with  her  daughter  Alice  and  Beatrice  Chillingham, 
spied  Mr.  Crewe  walking  about  among  the  young  trees 
\vas  growing  near  the  road,  and  occasionally  tapping 
them  with  his  stout  stick.  She  poked  her  coachman  in 
:he  back  and  cried :  — 

"  Humphrey,  you're  such  an  important  man  now  that  I 
despair  of  ever  seeing  you  again.  What  was  the  matter 
ast  night  ?  " 

"  A  politician  from  Newcastle,"  answered  Mr.  Crewe, 
continuing  to  tap  the  trees,  and  without  so  much  as  a 
glance  at  Alice. 


106  MR.   CREWE'S  CAREER 

"  Well,  if  you're  as  important  as  this  before  you're 
elected,  I  can't  think  what  it  will  be  afterwards,"  Mrs. 
Pomfret  lamented.  "  Poor  dear  Humphrey  is  so  consci 
entious.  When  can  you  come,  Humphrey  ?  " 

"Don't  know,"  said  Mr.  Crewe ;  "I'll  try  to  come  to 
night,  but  I  may  be  stopped  again.  Here's  Waters  now." 

The  three  people  in  Mrs.  Pomfret's  victoria  were 
considerably  impressed  to  see  the  dignified  Waters  hurry 
ing  down  the  slope  from  the  house  towards  them.  Mr. 
Crewe  continued  to  tap  the  trees,  but  drew  a  little  nearer 
the  carriage. 

"  If  you  please,  sir,"  said  Waters,  "  there's  a  telephone 
call  for  you  from  Newcastle.  It's  urgent,  sir." 

"  Who  is  it  ?  " 

"  They  won't  give  their  names,  sir." 

"All  right,"  said  Mr.  Crewe,  and  with  a  grin  which 
spoke  volumes  for  the  manner  in  which  he  was  harassed 
he  started  towards  the  house  —  in  no  great  hurry,  how 
ever.  Reaching  the  instrument,  and  saying  "  Hello  "  in 
his  usually  gracious  manner,  he  was  greeted  by  a  voice 
with  a  decided  Hibernian- American  accent. 

"Am  I  talkin'  to  Mr.  Crewe?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Mr.  Humphrey  Crewe  ?  " 

"  Yes  —  yes,  of  course  you  are.     Who  are  you  ?  " 

"I'm  the  president  of  the  Paradise  Benevolent  and 
Military  Association,  Mr.  Crewe.  Boys  that  work  in  the 
mills,  you  know,"  continued  the  voice,  caressingly.  "  Sure 
you've  heard  of  us.  We're  five  hundred  strong,  and  all 
of  us  good  Republicans  as  the  president.  We're  to  have 
our  annual  fall  outing  the  first  of  October  in  Finney  Grove, 
and  we'd  like  to  have  you  come  down." 

"  The  first  of  October  ?  "  said  Mr.  Crewe.  "  I'll  consult 
my  engagement  book." 

"  We'd  like  to  have  a  good  picture  of  you  in  our  pro 
gramme,  Mr.  Crewe.  We  hope  you'll  oblige  us.  You're 
such  an  important  figure  in  State  politics  now  you'd  ought 
to  have  a  full  page." 

There  was  a  short  silence. 


THE   TRIALS   OF   AN   HONOURABLE          107 

"  What  does  it  cost  ?  "  Mr.  Crewe  demanded. 

"Sure,"  said  the  caressing  voice  of  the  president,  "what- 
ever  you  like." 

"  I'll  send  you  a  check  for  five  dollars,  and  a  picture," 
said  Mr.  Crewe. 

The  answer  to  this  was  a  hearty  laugh,  which  the  tele 
phone  reproduced  admirably.  The  voice  now  lost  a  little 
of  its  caressing  note  and  partook  of  a  harder  quality. 

"  You're  a  splendid  humorist,  Mr.  Crewe.  Five  dol 
lars  wouldn't  pay  for  the  plate  and  the  paper,  A  gen 
tleman  like  you  could  give  us  twenty-five,  and  never 
know  it  was  gone.  You  won't  be  wanting  to  stop  in  the 
Legislature,  Mr.  Crewe,  and  we  remember  our  friends  in 
Newcastle." 

«  Very  well,  I'll  see  what  I  can  do.  Good-by,  I've  got 
an  engagement,"  said  Mr.  Crewe,  and  slammed  down  the 
telephone.  He  seated  himself  in  his  chair,  and  the  pen 
sive  mood  so  characteristic  (we  are  told)  of  statesmen 
came  over  him  once  more. 

While  these  and  other  conferences  and  duties  too  nu 
merous  to  mention  were  absorbing  Mr.  Crewe,  he  was  not 
too  busy  to  bear  in  mind  the  pleasure  of  those  around  him 
who  had  not  received  such  an  abundance  of  the  world's 
blessings  as  he.  The  townspeople  of  Leith  were  about 
to  bestow  on  him  their  greatest  gift.  What  could  he  do 
to  show  his  appreciation  ?  Wrestling  with  this  knotty 
problem,  a  brilliant  idea  occurred  to  him,  —  he  would  have 
a  garden-party  :  invite  everybody  in  town,  and  admit 
them  to  the  sanctities  of  Wedderburn ;  yes,  even  of 
Wedderburn  house,  that  they  might  behold  with  their  own 
eyes  the  carved  ivory  elephants  and  other  contents  of  glass 
cabinets  which  reeked  of  the  Sunday  afternoons  of  youth. 
Being  a  man  of  action,  Mr.  Pardriff  was  summoned  at 
once  from  Leith  and  asked  for  his  lowest  price  on  eight 
hundred  and  fifty  invitations  and  a  notice  of  the  party  in 
the  Ripton  Record. 

"  Goin'  to  invite  Democrats,  too  ?  "  demanded  Mr.  Par- 
driff,  glancing  at  the  check-list. 

"  Everybody,"  said  Mr.  Crewe,  with  unparalleled  gener- 


108  MR.    CREWE'S   CAREER 

osity.  "I  won't  draw  any  distinction  between  friends 
and  enemies.  They're  all  neighbours." 

"  And  some  of  'em  might,  by  accident,  vote  the  Republi 
can  ticket,"  Mr.  Pardrifi  retorted,  narrowing  his  eyes  a 
little. 

Mr.  Ore  we  evidently  thought  this  a  negligible  sugges 
tion,  for  he  did  not  reply  to  it,  but  presently  asked  for 
the  political  news  in  Ripton. 

"Well,"  said  Mr.  Pardriff,  "you  know  they  tried  to 
get  Austen  Vane  to  run  for  State  senator,  don't  you  ?  " 

"  Vane  !  Why,  he  ain't  a  full-fledged  lawyer  yet. 
I've  hired  him  in  an  unimportant  case.  Who  asked  him 
to  run  ?  " 

"  Young  Tom  Gaylord  and  a  delegation." 

"  He  couldn't  have  got  it,"  said  Mr.  Crewe. 

"I  don't  know,"  said  Mr.  Pardriff,  "he  might  have 
given  Billings  a  hustle  for  the  nomination." 

"  You  supported  Billings,   I  noticed,"  said  Mr.  Crewe. 

Mr.  Pardriff  winked  an  eye. 

"  I'm  not  ready  to  walk  the  ties  when  I  go  to  New 
castle,"  he  remarked,  "  and  Nat  ain't  quite  bankrupt  yet. 
The  Gaylords,"  continued  Mr.  Pardriff,  who  always  took 
the  cynical  view  o£  a  man  of  the  world,  "  have  had  some 
row  with  the  Northeastern  over  lumber  shipments.  I 
understand  they're  goin'  to  buck  'em  for  a  franchise  in  the 
next  Legislature,  just  to  make  it  lively.  The  Gaylords 
ain't  exactly  poverty-stricken,  but  they  might  as  well  try 
to  move  Sawanec  Mountain  as  the  Northeastern." 

It  was  a  fact  that  young  Tom  Gaylord  had  approached 
Austen  Vane  "with  a  delegation"  to  request  him  to  be  a  can 
didate  for  the  Republican  nomination  for  the  State  senate 
in  his  district  against  the  railroad  candidate  and  Austen's 
late  opponent,  the  Honourable  Nat  Billings.  It  was  a  fact 
also  that  Austen  had  invited  the  delegation  to  sit  down, 
although  there  were  only  two  chairs,  and  that  a  wrestling 
match  had  ensued  with  young  Tom,  in  the  progress 
of  which  one  chair  had  been  broken.  Young  Tom 
thought  it  was  time  to  fight  the  railroad,  and  perceived  in 
Austen  the  elements  of  a  rebel  leader.  Austen  had  un- 


THE  TRIALS   OF   AN   HONOURABLE         109 

dertaken  to  throw  young  Tom  out  of  a  front  window,  — 
which  was  a  large,  old-fashioned  one,  —  and  after  Herculean 
efforts  had  actually  got  him  on  the  ledge,  when  something 
in  the  street  caught  his  eye  and  made  him  desist  abruptly. 
The  something  was  the  vision  of  a  young  woman  in  a 
brown  linen  suit  seated  in  a  runabout  and  driving  a  horse 
almost  as  handsome  as  Pepper. 

The  delegation  exhausted  their  mental  arid  physical 
powers  of  persuasion  and  at  length  took  their  departure  in 
disgust.  It  was  some  few  days  later  that  Austen  opened 
mechanically  a  letter  which  had  very  much  the  appearance 
of  an  advertisement,  and  bearing  a  one-cent  stamp.  It 
announced  that  a  garden-party  would  take  place  at  Wed- 
derburn,  the  home  of  the  Honourable  Humphrey  Crewe, 
at  a  not  very  distant  date,  and  the  honour  of  the  bearer's 
presence  was  requested.  Refreshments  would  be  served, 
and  the  Ripton  Band  would  dispense  music.  Below,  in 
small  print,  were  minute  directions  where  to  enter,  where 
to  hitch  your  team,  and  where  to  go  out. 

Austen  was  at  a  loss  to  know  what  fairy  godmother  had 
prompted  Mr.  Crewe  to  send  him  an  invitation,  the  case 
of  the  injured  horse  not  having  advanced  with  noticeable 
rapidity.  Nevertheless,  the  prospect  of  the  garden-party 
dawned  radiantly  for  him  above  what  had  hitherto  been  a 
rather  gloomy  horizon.  Since  the  afternoon  he  had  driven 
Victoria  to  the  Hammonds'  he  had  had  daily  debates  with 
an  imaginary  man  in  his  own  likeness  who,  to  the  detri 
ment  of  his  reading  of  law,  sat  across  his  table  and  argued 
with  him.  The  imaginary  man  was  unprincipled,  and  had 
no  dignity,  but  he  had  such  influence  over  Austen  Vane  that 
he  had  induced  him  to  drive  twice  within  sight  of  Fairview 
gate,  when  Austen  Vane  had  turned  round  again.  The 
imaginary  man  was  for  going  to  call  on  her  and  letting 
subsequent  events  take  care  of  themselves ;  Austen  Vane 
had  an  uncomfortable  quality  of  reducing  a  matter  first  of 
all  to  its  simplest  terms.  He  knew  that  Mr.  Flint's  views 
were  as  fixed,  ineradicable,  and  unchangeable  as  an  epitaph 
cut  in  a  granite  monument  ;  he  felt  (as  Mr.  Flint  had) 
that  their  first  conversation  had  been  but  a  forerunner  of 


110  MR.   CREWE'S  CAREER 

a  strife  to  come  between  them ;  and  add  to  this  the  facts 
that  Mr.  Flint  was  very  rich  and  Austen  Vane  poor,  that 
Victoria's  friends  were  not  his  friends,  and  that  he  had 
grave  doubts  that  the  interest  she  had  evinced  in  him 
sprang  from  any  other  incentive  than  a  desire  to  have 
communication  with  various  types  of  humanity,  his  hesita 
tion  as  to  entering  Mr.  Flint's  house  was  natural  enough. 

It  was  of  a  piece  with  Mr.  Crewe's  good  fortune  of 
getting  what  he  wanted  that  the  day  of  the  garden-party 
was  the  best  that  September  could  do  in  that  country, 
which  is  to  say  that  it  was  very  beautiful.  A  pregnant 
stillness  enwrapped  the  hills,  a  haze  shot  with  gold  dust, 
like  the  filmiest  of  veils,  softened  the  distant  purple  and 
the  blue-black  shadows  under  the  pines.  Austen  awoke 
from  his  dream  in  this  enchanted  borderland  to  find  him 
self  in  a  long  line  of  wagons  filled  with  people  in  their 
Sunday  clothes,  —  the  men  in  black,  and  the  young  women 
in  white,  with  gay  streamers,  —  wending  their  wfty 
through  the  rear-entrance  drive  of  Wedderburn,  where  one 
of  Mr.  Crewe's  sprucest  employees  was  taking  up  the 
invitation  cards  like  tickets,  —  a  precaution  to  prevent  the 
rowdy  element  from  Ripton  corning  and  eating  up  the 
refreshments.  Austen  obediently  tied  Pepper  in  a  field, 
as  he  was  directed,  and  made  his  way  by  a  path  through 
the  woods  towards  the  house,  where  the  Ripton  Band  could 
be  heard  playing  the  second  air  in  the  programme,  "  Don't 
you  wish  you'd  Waited  ?  " 

For  a  really  able  account  of  that  memorable  entertain 
ment  see  the  Ripton  Record  of  that  week,  for  we  cannot  hope 
to  vie  with  Mr.  Pardriff  when  his  heart  is  really  in  his 
work.  How  describe  the  noble  figure  of  Mr.  Ore  we  as  it 
burst  upon  Austen  when  he  rounded  the  corner  of  the 
house  ?  Clad  in  a  rough-and-ready  manner,  with  a  Glad 
stone  collar  to  indicate  the  newly  acquired  statesmanship, 
and  fairly  radiating  geniality,  Mr.  Crewe  stood  at  the  foot 
of  the  steps  while  the  guests  made  the  circuit  of  the  drive 
way;  and  they  carefully  avoided,  in  obedience  to  a  warn 
ing  sign,  the  grass  circle  in  the  centre.  As  man  and  wife 
confronted  him,  Mr.  Crewe  greeted  them  in  hospitable 


THE  TRIALS  OF  AN  HONOURABLE          111 

but  stentorian  tones  that  rose  above  the  strains  of  "  Don't 
you  wish  you'd  Waited  ?  "  It  was  Mr.  Ball  who  intro 
duced  his  townspeople  to  the  great  man  who  was  to 
represent  them. 

"  How  are  you  ?  "  said  Mr.  Crewe,  with  his  eyes  on  the 
geraniums.  "  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Perley  Wright,  eh  ?  Make 
yourselves  at  home.  Everything's  free  —  you'll  find  the 
refreshments  on  the  back  porch  —  just  have  an  eye  to  the 
signs  posted  round,  that's  all."  And  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Per 
ley  Wright,  overwhelmed  by  such  a  welcome,  would  pass 
on  into  a  back  eddy  of  neighbours,  where  they  would 
stick,  staring  at  a  sign  requesting  them  please  not  to  pick 
the  flowers. 

"  Can't  somebody  stir  'em  up  ?  "  Mr.  Crewe  shouted  in 
an  interval  when  the  band  had  stopped  to  gather  strength 
for  a  new  effort.  "  Can't  somebody  move  'em  round  to  see 
the  cows  and  what's  in  the  house  and  the  automobile  and 
ths  horses  ?  Move  around  the  driveway,  please.  It's  so 
hot  here  you  can't  breathe.  Some  of  you  wanted  to  see 
what  was  in  the  house.  Now's  your  chance." 

This  graceful  appeal  had  some  temporary  effect,  but 
the  congestion  soon  returned,  when  a  man  of  the  hour 
appeared,  a  man  whose  genius  scattered  the  groups  and 
who  did  more  to  make  the  party  a  success  than  any  single 
individual,  —  Mr.  Hamilton  Tooting,  in  a  glorious  white 
silk  necktie  with  purple  flowers. 

"  I'll  handle  'em,  Mr.  Crewe,"  he  said  ;  "  a  little  brains'll 
start 'em  goin'.  Come  along  here,  Mr.  Wright,  and  I'll 
show  you  the  best  cows  this  side  of  the  Hudson  River  — 
all  pedigreed  prize  winners.  Hello,  Aust,  you  take  hold 
and  get  the  wimmen-folks  interested  in  the  cabinets. 
You  know  where  they  are." 

"There's  a  person  with  some  sense,"  remarked  Mrs. 
Pomfret,  who  had  been  at  a  little  distance  among  a  group 
of  summer-resident  ladies  and  watching  the  affair  with 
shining  eyes.  "  I'll  help.  Come,  Edith;  come,  Victoria — 
•where's  Victoria?  —  and  dear  Mrs.  Chillingham.  We 
American  women  are  so  deplorably  lacking  in  this  kind 
of  experience.  Alice,  take  some  of  the  women  into  the 


112  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

garden.  I'm  going  to  interest  that  dear,  benevolent  man 
who  looks  so  helpless,  and  doing  his  best  to  have  a  good 
time." 

The  dear,  benevolent  man  chanced  to  be  Mr.  Job 
Braden,  who  was  standing  somewhat  apart  with  his  hands 
in  his  pockets.  He  did  not  move  as  Mrs.  Pomfret 
approached  him,  holding  her  glasses  to  her  eyes. 

"  How  are  you  ? "  exclaimed  that  lady,  extending  a 
white-gloved  hand  with  a  cordiality  that  astonished  her 
friends.  "  It  is  so  pleasant  to  see  you  here,  Mr.  — Mr. — " 

"  How  be  you  ?  "  said  Mr.  Braden,  taking  her  fingers 
in  the  gingerly  manner  he  would  have  handled  one  of 
Mr.  Crewe's  priceless  curios.  The  giraffe  Mr.  Barnum  had 
once  brought  to  Ripton  was  not  half  as  interesting  as 
this  immaculate  and  mysterious  production  of  foreign 
dressmakers  and  French  maids,  but  he  refrained  from 
betraying  it.  His  eye  rested  on  the  lorgnette. 

"  Near-sighted,  be  you  ?  "  he  inquired,  —  a  remark  so 
unexpected  that  for  the  moment  Mrs.  Pomfret  was  de 
prived  of  speech. 

"  I  manage  to  see  better  with  —  with  these,"  she  gasped, 
"when  we  get  old  —  you  know." 

"  You  hain't  old,"said  Mr.  Braden,  gallantly.  "  If  you 
be,"  he  added,  his  eye  travelling  up  and  down  the  Parisian 
curves,  "  I  wouldn't  have  suspected  it —  not  a  mite." 

"  I'm  afraid  you  are  given  to  flattery,  Mr.  —  Mr.  — "  she 
replied  hurriedly.  "  Whom  have  I  the  pleasure  of  speak 
ing  to  ?  " 

"  Job  Braden's  my  name,"  he  answered,  "  but  you  have 
the  advantage  of  me." 

"  How  ?  "  demanded  the  thoroughly  bewildered  Mrs. 
Pomfret. 

"  I  hain't  heard  your  name,"  he  said. 

"  Oh,  I'm  Mrs.  Pomfret  —  a  very  old  friend  of  Mr. 
Crewe's.  Whenever  he  has  —  his  friends  with  him,  like 
this,  I  come  over  and  help  him.  It  is  so  difficult  for  a 
bachelor  to  entertain,  Mr.  Braden." 

"  Well,"  said  Mr.  Braden,  bending  alarmingly  near  her 
ear,  "there's  one  way  out  of  it." 


THE  TRIALS   OF   AN   HONOURABLE         113 

«  What's  that  ?"  said  Mrs.  Pomfret. 

"  Git  married,"  declared  Mr.  Braden. 

"  How  very  clever  you  are,  Mr.  Braden !  I  wish  poor 
dear  Mr.  Crewe  would  get  married  —  a  wife  could  take 
so  many  burdens  off  his  shoulders.  You  don't  know 
Mr.  Crewe  very  well,  do  you  ?  " 

44  Callate  to  —  so  so,"  said  Mr.  Braden. 

Mrs.  Pomfret  was  at  sea  again. 

44  I  mean,  do  you  see  him  often  ?  " 

"  Seen  him  once,"  said  Mr.  Braden.  "  G-guess  that's 
enough." 

"  You're  a  shrewd  judge  of  human  nature,  Mr.  Braden," 
she  replied,  tapping  him  on  the  shoulder  with  the  lorgnette, 
44  but  you  can  have  no  idea  how  good  he  is  —  how  unceas 
ingly  he  works  for  others.  He  is  not  a  man  who  gives 
much  expression  to  his  feelings,  as  no  doubt  you  have  dis 
covered,  but  if  you  knew  him  as  I  do,  you  would  realize 
how  much  affection  he  has  for  his  country  neighbours  — 
and  how  much  he  has  their  welfare  at  heart." 

44  Loves  'em  —  does  he  —  loves  'em  ?  " 

44  He  is  like  an  English  gentleman  in  his  sense  of  respon 
sibility,"  said  Mrs.  Pomfret;  u  over  there,  you  know,  it  is  a 
part  of  a  country  gentleman's  duty  to  improve  the  condition 
of  his  — his  neighbours.  And  then  Mr.  Crewe  is  so 
fond  of  his  townspeople  that  he  couldn't  resist  doing  this 
for  them,"  and  she  indicated  with  a  sweep  of  her  eye 
glasses  the  beatitude  with  which  they  were  surrounded. 

44  Wahn't  no  occasion  to,"  said  Mr.  Braden. 

44 What!"  cried  Mrs.  Pomfret,  who  had  been  walking 
on  ice  for  some  time. 

k"  This  hain't  England  —  is  it  ?     Hain't  England  ?  " 
44  No,"  she  admitted,  44  but  —  " 

44  Hain't  England,"  said  Mr.  Braden,  and  leaned  forward 
until  he  was  within  a  very  few  inches  of  her  pearl  ear-ring. 
44  He'll  be  chose  all  right  —  d-don't  fret  —  he'll  be  chose." 
44  My  dear  Mr.  Braden,  I've  no  doubt  of  it  —  Mr.  Crewe's 
so  popular,"  she  cried,  removing  her  ear-ring  abruptly  from 
the  danger  zone.  44  Do  make  yourself  at  home,"  she 
added,  and  retired  from  Mr.  Braden's  company  a  trifle 


114  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

disconcerted,  —  a  new  experience  for  Mrs.  Pomfret.  She 
wondered  whether  all  country  people  were  like  Mr.  Braden, 
but  decided,  after  another  experiment  or  two,  that  he  was 
an  original.  More  than  once  during  the  afternoon  she 
caught  sight  of  him,  beaming  upon  the  festivities  around 
him.  But  she  did  not  renew  the  conversation. 

To  Austen  Vane,  wandering  about  the  grounds,  Mr. 
Crewe's  party  presented  a  sociological  problem  of  no  small 
interest.  Mr.  Crewe  himself  interested  him,  and  he  found 
himself  speculating  how  far  a  man  would  go  who  charged 
the  fastnesses  of  the  politicians  with  a  determination  not 
to  be  denied  and  a  bank  account  to  be  reckoned  with. 
Austen  talked  to  many  of  the  Leith  farmers  whom  he  had 
known  from  boyhood,  thanks  to  his  custom  of  roaming  the 
hills;  they  were  for  the  most  part  honest  men  whose  occupa 
tion  in  life  was  the  first  thought,  arid  they  were  content  to 
leave  politics  to  Mr.  Braden  —  that  being  his  profession. 
To  the  most  intelligent  of  these  Mr.  Crewe's  garden-party 
was  merely  the  wanton  whim  of  a  millionaire.  It  was  an 
open  secret  to  them  that  Job  Braden  for  reasons  of  his 
own  had  chosen  Mr.  Crewe  to  represent  them,  and  they 
were  mildly  amused  at  the  efforts  of  Mrs.  Pomfret  and  her 
assistants  to  secure  votes  which  were  as  certain  as  the 
sun's  rising  on  the  morrow. 

It  was  some  time  before  Austen  came  upon  the  object 
of  his  search — though  scarce  admitting  to  himself  that  it 
had  an  object.  In  greeting  him,  after  inquiring  about  his 
railroad  case,  Mr.  Crewe  had  indicated  with  a  wave  of  his 
hand  the  general  direction  of  the  refreshments  ;  but  it  was 
not  until  Austen  had  tried  in  all  other  quarters  that  he 
made  his  way  towards  the  porch  where  the  lemonade  and 
cake  and  sandwiches  were.  It  was,  after  all,  the  most 
popular  place,  though  to  his  mind  the  refreshments  had 
little  to  do  with  its  popularity.  From  the  outskirts  of  the 
crowd  he  perceived  Victoria  presiding  over  the  punch 
bowl  that  held  the  lemonade.  He  liked  to  think  of  her  as 
Victoria  ;  the  name  had  no  familiarity  for  him,  but  seemed 
rather  to  enhance  the  unattainable  quality  of  her. 

Surrounding  Victoria  were  several  clean-looking,  freckled, 


THE  TRIALS   OF   AN   HONOURABLE          115 

and  tanned  young  men  of  undergraduate  age  wearing  straw 
hats  with  coloured  ribbons,  who  showed  every  eagerness  to 
obey  and  even  anticipate  the  orders  she  did  not  hesitate 
to  give  them.  Her  eye  seemed  continually  on  the  alert 
for  those  of  Mr.  Crewe's  guests  who  were  too  bashful  to 
come  forward,  and  discerning  them  she  would  send  one  of 
her  lieutenants  forward  with  supplies.  Sometimes  she 
would  go  herself  to  the  older  people  ;  and  once,  perceiving 
a  tired  woman  holding  a  baby  (so  many  brought  babies, 
being  unable  to  leave  them),  Victoria  impulsively  left  her 
post  and  seized  the  woman  by  the  arm. 

"  Do  come  and  sit  down,"  she  cried ;  "  there's  a  chair 
beside  me.  And  oh,  what  a  nice  baby  !  Won't  you  let 
me  hold  him  ?  " 

"Why,  yes,  ma'am,"  said  the  woman,  looking  up  at 
Victoria  with  grateful,  patient  eyes,  and  then  with  awe  at 
what  seemed  to  her  the  priceless  embroidery  on  Victoria's 
waist,  "  won't  he  spoil  your  dress  ?  " 

"  Bless  him,  no,"  said  Victoria,  poking  her  finger  into 
a  dimple  —  for  he  was  smiling  at  her.  "  What  if  he 
does  ?  "  and  forthwith  she  seized  him  in  her  arms  and  bore 
him  to  the  porch,  amidst  the  laughter  of  those  who  beheld 
her,  and  sat  him  down  on  her  knee  in  front  of  the  lemon 
ade  bowl,  the  tired  mother  beside  her.  "  Will  a  little 
lemonade  hurt  him?  Just  a  very,  very  little,  you  know?" 

"  Why,  no,  ma'am,"  said  the  mother. 

"And  just  a  teeny  bit  of  cake,"  begged  Victoria, 
daintily  breaking  off  a  piece,  while  the  baby  gurgled  and 
snatched  for  it.  "  Do  tell  me  how  old  he  is,  and  how  many 
more  you  have." 

"  He's  eleven  months  on  the  twenty-seventh,"  said  the 
mother,  "and  I've  got  four  more."  She  sighed,  her  eyes 
wandering  back  to  the  embroidery.  "  What  between  them 
and  the  housework  and  the  butter  makin',  it  hain't  easy. 
Be  you  married?" 

"  No,"  said  Victoria,  laughing  and  blushing  a  little. 

"  You'll  make  a  good  wife  for  somebody,"  said  the  woman. 
"  I  hope  you'll  get  a  good  man." 

"  I  hope  so,  too,"  said  Victoria,  blushing  still  deeper 


116  MR.   OEEWE'S   CAREER 

amidst  the  laughter,  "  but  there  doesn't  seem  to  be  much 
chance  of  it,  and  good  men  are  very  scarce." 

"  I  guess  you're  right,"  said  the  mother,  soberly.  "  Not 
but  what  my  man's  good  enough,  but  he  don't  seem  to  get 
along,  somehow.  The  farm's  wore  out,  and  the  mortgage 
comes  around  so  regular." 

"  Where  do  you  live  ?  "  asked  Victoria,  suddenly  grow 
ing  serious. 

"  Fitch's  place.  'Tain't  very  far  from  the  Four  Corners, 
on  the  Avalon  road." 

"  And  you  are  Mrs.  Fitch  ?  " 

"  Callate  to  be,"  said  the  mother.  "  If  it  ain't  askin' 
too  much,  I'd  like  to  know  your  name." 

"  I'm  Victoria  Flint.  I  live  not  very  far  from  the  Four 
Corners — that  is,  about  eight  miles.  May  I  come  over  and 
see  you  sometime?" 

Although  Victoria  said  this  very  simply,  the  mother's 
eyes  widened  until  one  might  almost  have  said  they 
expressed  a  kind  of  terror. 

"  Land  sakes  alive,  be  you  Mr.  Flint's  daughter  ?  I 
might  have  knowed  it  from  the  lace  —  that  dress  must 
have  cost  a  fortune.  But  I  didn't  think  to  find  you  so 
common." 

Victoria  did  not  smile.  She  had  heard  the  word 
"  common  "  so  used  before,  and  knew  that  it  was  meant 
for  a  compliment,  and  she  turned  to  the  woman  with  a  very 
expressive  light  in  her  eyes. 

"  I  will  come  to  see  you  —  this  very  week,"  she  said. 
And  just  then  her  glance,  seemingly  drawn  in  a  certain 
direction,  met  that  of  a  tall  young  man  which  had  been 
fixed  upon  her  during  the  whole  of  this  scene.  She 
coloured  again,  abruptly  handed  the  baby  back  to  his 
mother,  and  rose. 

"I'm  neglecting  all  these  people,"  she  said,  ubut  do  sit 
there  and  rest  yourself  and  —  have  some  more  lemonade." 

She  bowed  to  Austen,  and  smiled  a  little  as  she  filled 
the  glasses,  but  she  did  not  beckon  him.  She  gave  no 
further  sign  of  her  knowledge  of  his  presence  until  he 
stood  beside  her  —  and  then  she  looked  up  at  him. 


THE  TRIALS   OF   AN   HONOURABLE          117 

"  I  have  been  looking  for  you,  Miss  Flint,"  he  said. 

"  I  suppose  a  man  would  never  think  of  trying  the 
obvious  places  first,"  she  replied.  "  Hastings,  don't  you 
see  that  poor  old  woman  over  there  ?  She  looks  so  thirsty 
—  give  her  this." 

The  boy  addressed,  with  a  glance  at  Austen,  did  as  he 
was  bid,  and  she  sent  off  a  second  on  another  errand. 

"Let  me  help,"  said  Austen,  seizing  the  cake;  and  be 
ing  seized  at  the  same  time,  by  an  unusual  and  inexplicable 
tremor  of  shyness,  thrust  it  at  the  baby. 

"  Oh,  he  can't  have  any  more  ;  do  you  want  to  kill  him?" 
cried  Victoria,  seizing  the  plate,  and  adding  mischievously, 
"  I  don't  believe  you're  of  very  much  use  —  after  all ! " 

"  Then  it's  time  I  learned,"  said  Austen.  "  Here's  Mr. 
Jenney.  I'm  sure  he'll  have  a  piece." 

"  Well,"  said  Mr.  Jenney,  the  same  Mr.  Jenney  of  the 
apple  orchard,  but  holding  out  a  horny  hand  with  un 
mistakable  warmth,  "  how  be  you,  Austen?  "  Looking  about 
him,  Mr.  Jenney  put  his  hand  to  his  mouth,  and  added, 
"Didn't  expect  to  see  you  trailin'  on  to  this  here  kite." 
He  took  a  piece  of  cake  between  his  thumb  and  forefinger 
and  glanced  bashfully  at  Victoria. 

"  Have  some  lemonade,  Mr.  Jenney  ?      Do,"  she  urged. 

"Well,  I  don't  care  if  I  do,"  he  said,  " — just  a  little 
mite."  He  did  not  attempt  to  stop  her  as  she  filled  the 
glass  to  the  brim,  but  continued  to  regard  her  with  a  mix 
ture  of  curiosity  and  admiration.  "  Seen  you  nursin'  the 
baby  and  makin'  folks  at  home.  Guess  you  have  the 
knack  of  it  better'n  some  I  could  mention." 

This  was  such  a  palpable  stroke  at  their  host  that  Vic 
toria  laughed,  and  made  haste  to  turn  the  subject  from 
herself. 

"  Mr.  Vane  seems  to  be  an  old  friend  of  yours,"  she  said. 

"  Why,"  said  Mr.  Jenney,  laying  his  hand  on  Austen's 
shoulder,  "  I  callate  he  is.  Austen's  broke  in  more'n  one 
of  my  colts  afore  he  went  West  and  shot  that  feller.  He's 
as  good  a  judge  of  horse-flesh  as  any  man  in  this  part  of 
the  State.  Hear  Tom  Gay  lord  and  the  boys  wanted  him 
to  be  State  senator." 


118  MR.   CREWE'S  CAREER 

"Why  didn't  you  accept,  Mr.  Vane?" 

"  Because  I  don't  think  the  boys  could  have  elected 
me,"  answered  Austen,  laughing. 

"  He's  as  popular  a  man  as  there  is  in  the  county," 
declared  Mr.  Jenney.  "  He  was  a  mite  wild  as  a  boy,  but 
sence  he's  sobered  down  and  won  that  case  against  the 
railrud,  he  could  get  any  office  he'd  a  mind  to.  He's 
always  adoin'  little  things  for  folks,  Austen  is." 

"  Did  —  did  that  case  against  the  railroad  make  him 
so  popular  ?  "  asked  Victoria,  glancing  at  Austen's  broad 
back  —  for  he  had  made  his  escape  with  the  cake. 

"  I  guess  it  helped  considerable,"  Mr.  Jenney  admitted. 

"  Why  ?  "  asked  Victoria. 

"  Well,  it  was  a  fearless  thing  to  do — plumb  against  his 
own  interests  with  old  Hilary  Vane.  Austen's  a  bright 
lawyer,  and  I  have  heard  it  said  he  was  in  line  for  his 
father's  place  as  counsel." 

"  Do  —  do  people  dislike  the  railroad  ?  " 

Mr.  Jenney  rubbed  his  beard  thoughtfully.  He  began 
to  wonder  who  this  young  woman  was,  and  a  racial  caution 
seized  him. 

"Well,"  he  said,  "  folks  has  an  idea  the  railrud  runs 
this  State  to  suit  themselves.  I  guess  they  hain't  far 
wrong.  I've  be'n  to  the  Legislature  and  seen  some  signs 
of  it.  Why,  Hilary  Vane  himself  has  charge  of  the  most 
considerable  part  of  the  politics.  Who  be  you  ?  "  Mr. 
Jenney  demanded  suddenly. 

"  I'm  Victoria  Flint,"  said  Victoria. 

"  Godfrey !  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Jenney,  "  you  don't  say 
so!  I  might  have  known  it  —  seen  you  on  the  rud  more 
than  once.  But  I  don't  know  all  you  rich  folks  apart. 
Wouldn't  have  spoke  so  frank  if  I'd  knowed  who  you 
was." 

"I'm  glad  you  did,  Mr.  Jenney,"  she  answered.  "I-- 
I  wanted  to  know  what  people  think." 

"  Well,  it's  almighty  complicated,"  said  Mr.  Jenney, 
shaking  his  head.  "  I  don't  know  by  rights  what  to 
think.  As  long  as  I've  said  what  I  have,  I'll  say  this: 
that  the  politicians  is  all  for  the  railrud,  and  I  hain't  got  a 


THE  TRIALS   OF  AN   HONOURABLE          119 

mite  of  use  for  the  politicians.  I'll  vote  for  a  feller  like 
Austeu  Vane  every  time,  if  he'll  run,  and  I  know  other 
folks  that  will." 

After  Mr.  Jenney  had  left  her,  Victoria  stood  motion 
less,  gazing  off  into  the  haze,  until  she  was  startled  by  the 
voice  of  Hastings  Weare  beside  her. 

"  Say,  Victoria,  who  is  that  man  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  What  man  ?  " 

Hastings  nodded  towards  Austen,  who,  with  a  cake 
basket  in  his  hand,  stood  chatting  with  a  group  of  country 
people  on  the  edge  of  the  porch. 

"Oh,  that  man!"  said  Victoria.  "His  name's  Austen 
Vane,  and  he's  a  lawyer  in  Ripton." 

"  All  I  can  say  is,"  replied  Hastings,  with  a  light  in  his 
face,  "  he's  one  I'd  like  to  tie  to.  I'll  bet  he  could  whip 
any  four  men  you  could  pick  out." 

Considering  that  Hastings  had  himself  proposed  —  al 
though  in  a  very  mild  form  —  more  than  once  to  Victo 
ria,  this  was  generous. 

"  I  daresay  he  could,"  she  agreed  absently. 

"  It  isn't  only  the  way  he's  built,"  persisted  Hastings, 
"  he  looks  as  if  he  were  going  to  be  somebody  some  day. 
Introduce  me  to  him,  will  you  ?  " 

"Certainly,"  said  Victoria.  "Mr.  Vane,"  she  called,  "I 
want  to  introduce —  an  admirer,  Mr.  Hastings  Weare." 

"  I  just  wanted  to  know  you,"  said  Hastings,  redden 
ing,  "  and  Victoria  • — I  mean  Miss  Flint — said  she'd  intro 
duce  me." 

"  I'm  much  obliged  to  her,"  said  Austen,  smiling. 

"  Are  you  in  politics  ?  "  asked  Hastings. 

"  I'm  afraid  not,"  answered  Austen,  with  a  glance  at 
Victoria. 

"  You're  not  helping  Humphrey  Crewe,  are  you  ?  " 

"No,"  said  Austen,  and  added  with  an  illuminating 
smile,  "  Mr.  Crewe  doesn't  need  any  help." 

"  I'm  glad  you're  not,"  exclaimed  the  downright  Hast 
ings,  with  palpable  relief  in  his  voice  that  an  idol  had  not 
been  shattered.  "  I  think  Humphrey's  a  fakir,  and  all 
this  sort  of  thing  tommyrot.  He  wouldn't  get  my  vote 


120  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

by  giving  me  lemonade  and  cake  and  letting  me  look  at 
his  cows.  If  you  ever  run  for  office,  I'd  like  to  cast  it  for 
you,  My  father  is  only  a  summer  resident,  but  since  he 
has  gone  out  of  business  he  stays  here  till  Christmas,  and 
I'll  be  twenty-one  in  a  year." 

Austen  had  ceased  to  smile;  he  was  looking  into  the 
boy's  eyes  with  that  serious  expression  which  men  and 
women  found  irresistible. 

"  Thank  you,  Mr.  Weare,"  he  said  simply. 

Hastings  was  suddenly  overcome  with  the  shyness  of 
youth.  He  held  out  his  hand,  and  said,  "  I'm  awfully 
glad  to  have  met  you,"  and  fled. 

Victoria,  who  had  looked  on  with  a  curious  mixture  of 
feelings,  turned  to  Austen. 

44  That  was  a  real  tribute,"  she  said.  "  Is  this  the  way 
you  affect  everybody  whom  you  meet  ?  " 

They  were  standing  almost  alone.  The  sun  was  near- 
ing  the  western  hills  beyond  the  river,  and  people  had  for 
some  time  been  wending  their  way  towards  the  field  where 
the  horses  were  tied.  He  did  not  answer  her  question, 
but  asked  one  instead. 

"  Will  you  let  me  drive  you  home  ?  " 

"  Do  you  think  you  deserve  to,  after  the  shameful  man 
ner  in  which  you  have  behaved  ?  " 

"  I'm  quite  sure  that  I  don't  deserve  to,"  he  answered, 
still  looking  down  at  her. 

"  If  you  did  deserve  to,  being  a  woman,  I  probably 
shouldn't  let  you,"  said  Victoria,  flashing  a  look  upwards; 
44  as  it  is,  you  may." 

His  face  lighted,  but  she  halted  in  the  grass,  with 
her  hands  behind  her,  and  stared  at  him  with  a  puzzled 
expression. 

"I'm  sure  you're  a  dangerous  man,"  she  declared. 
44  First  you  take  in  poor  little  Hastings,  and  now  you're 
trying  to  take  me  in." 

44  Then  I  wish  I  were  still  more  dangerous,"  he  laughed, 
"for  apparently  I  haven't  succeeded." 

44 1  want  to  talk  to  you  seriously,"  said  Victoria ;  "  that 
is  the  only  reason  I'm  permitting  you  to  drive  me  home." 


THE  TRIALS   OF   AN   HONOURABLE          121 

"  I  am  devoutly  thankful  for  the  reason  then,"  he  said, 
—  "my  horse  is  tied  in  the  field." 

"  And  aren't  you  going  to  say  good-by  to  your  host  and 
hostess  ?  " 

"  Hostess  ?  "  he  repeated,  puzzled. 

"  Hostesses,"  she  corrected  herself,  "  Mrs.  Pomfret  and 
Alice.  I  thought  you  had  eyes  in  your  head,"  she  added, 
with  a  fleeting  glance  at  them. 

"  Is  Crewe  engaged  to  Miss  Pomfret  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Are  all  men  simpletons  ?  "  said  Victoria.  "  He  doesn't 
know  it  yet,  but  he  is." 

"  I  think  I'd  know  it,  if  I  were,"  said  Austen,  with  an 
emphasis  that  made  her  laugh. 

"  Sometimes  fish  don't  know  they're  in  a  net  until  — 
until  the  morning  after,"  said  Victoria.  "  That  has  a  hor 
ribly  dissipated  sound  —  hasn't  it  ?  I  know  to  a  moral 
certainty  that  Mr.  Crewe  will  eventually  lead  Miss  Pom- 
fret  away  from  the  altar.  At  present,"  she  could  not  refrain 
from  adding,  "he  thinks  he's  in  love  with  some  one  else." 

«  Who  ?  " 

"  It  doesn't  matter,"  she  replied.  "  Humphrey's  perfectly 
happy,  because  he  believes  most  women  are  in  love  with 
him,  and  he's  making  up  his  mind  in  that  magnificent, 
thorough  way  of  his  whether  she  is  worthy  to  be  endowed 
with  his  heart  and  hand,  his  cows,  and  all  his  stocks  and 
bonds.  He  doesn't  know  he's  going  to  marry  Alice.  It 
almost  makes  one  a  Calvinist,  doesn't  it.  He's  predes 
tined,  but  perfectly  happy." 

"Who  is  he  in  love  with?"  demanded  Austen,  ungram 
matically. 

"  I'm  going  to  say  good-by  to  him.  I'll  meet  you  in  the 
field,  if  you  don't  care  to  come.  It's  only  manners,  after 
all,  although  the  lemonade's  all  gone  and  I  haven't  had  a 
drop." 

"  I'll  go  along  too,"  he  said. 

"  Aren't  you  afraid  of  Mrs.  Pomfret  ?  " 

"  Not  a  bit  !  " 

"  I  am,"  said  Victoria,  "  but  I  think  you'd  better  come 
just  the  same." 


122  MR.   CREWE'S  CAREER 

Around  the  corner  of  the  house  they  found  them,  —  Mr. 
Crewe  urging  the  departing  guests  to  remain,  and  not  to 
be  bashful  in  the  future  about  calling. 

"  We  don't  always  have  lemonade  and  cake,"  he  was 
saying,  "  but  you  can  be  sure  of  a  welcome,  just  the  same. 
Good-by,  Vane,  glad  you  came.  Did  they  show  you 
through  the  stables  ?  Did  you  see  the  mate  to  the  horse  I 
lost?  Beauty,  isn't  he?  Stir  'em  up  and  get  the  money. 
I  guess  we  won't  see  much  of  each  other  politically.  You're 
anti-railroad.  I  don't  believe  that  tack'll  work  —  we  can't 
get  along  without  corporations,  you  know.  You  ought  to 
talk  to  Flint.  I'll  give  you  a  letter  of  introduction  to 
him.  I  don't  know  what  I'd  have  done  without  that  man 
Tooting  in  your  father's  office.  He's  a  wasted  genius  in 
Ripton.  What?  Good-by,  you'll  find  your  wagon,  I 
guess.  Well,  Victoria,  where  have  you  been  keeping  your 
self?  I've  been  so  busy  I  haven't  had  time  to  look  for 
you.  You're  going  to  stay  to  dinner,  and  Hastings,  and  all 
the  people  who  have  helped." 

"No,  I'm  not,"  answered  Victoria,  with  a  glance  at 
Austen,  before  whom  this  announcement  was  so  delicately 
made,  "  I'm  going  home." 

"  But  when  am  I  to  see  you  ?  "  cried  Mr.  Crewe,  as 
near  genuine  alarm  as  he  ever  got.  "  You  never  let  me 
see  you.  I  was  going  to  drive  you  home  in  the  motor  by 
moonlight." 

"  We  all  know  that  you're  the  most  original  person, 
Victoria,"  said  Mrs.  Pomfret,  "  full  of  whims  and  strange 
fancies,"  she  added,  with  the  only  brief  look  at  Austen 
she  had  deigned  to  bestow  on  him.  "  It  never  pays  to 
count  on  you  for  twenty-four  hours.  I  suppose  you're  off 
on  another  wild  expedition." 

"  I  think  I've  earned  the  right  to  it,"  said  Victoria ; 
"  I've  poured  lemonade  for  Humphrey's  constituents  the 
whole  afternoon.  And  besides,  I  never  said  I'd  stay  for 
dinner.  I'm  going  home.  Father's  leaving  for  California 
in  the  morning." 

"  He'd  better  stay  at  home  and  look  after  her,"  Mrs. 
Pomfret  remarked,  when  Victoria  was  out  of  hearing. 


THE  TRIALS   OF   AN   HONOURABLE          123 

"  Since  Mrs.  Harry  Haynes  ran  off,  one  can  never  tell 
what  a  woman  will  do.  It  wouldn't  surprise  me  a  bit  if 
Victoria  eloped  with  a  handsome  nobody  like  that.  Of 
course  he's  after  her  money,  but  he  wouldn't  get  it,  not  if 
I  know  Augustus  Flint." 

"  Is  he  handsome  ?  "  said  Mr.  Crewe,  as  though  the 
idea  were  a  new  one.  "  Great  Scott,  I  don't  believe  she 
gives  him  a  thought.  She's  only  going  as  far  as  the  field 
with  him.  She  insisted  on  leaving  her  horse  there  instead 
of  putting  him  in  the  stable." 

"  Catch  Alice  going  as  far  as  the  field  with  him,"  said 
Mrs.  Pomfret,  "  but  I've  done  my  duty.  It's  none  of  my 
affair." 

In  the  meantime  Austen  and  Victoria  had  walked  on 
some  distance  in  silence. 

"  I  have  an  idea  with  whom  Mr.  Crewe  is  in  love,"  he 
said  at  length. 

"  So  have  I,"  replied  Victoria,  promptly.  "  Humphrey's 
in  love  with  himself.  All  he  desires  in  a  wife  —  if  he 
desires  one  —  is  an  inanimate  and  accommodating  looking- 
glass,  in  whom  he  may  see  what  he  conceives  to  be  his 
own  image  daily.  James,  you  may  take  the  mare  home. 
I'm  going  to  drive  with  Mr.  Vane." 

She  stroked  Pepper's  nose  while  Austen  undid  the 
hitch-rope  from  around  his  neck. 

"  You  arid  I  are  getting  to  be  friends,  aren't  we,  Pep 
per  ?  "  she  asked,  as  the  horse,  with  quivering  nostrils, 
thrust  his  head  into  her  hand.  Then  she  sprang  lightly 
into  the  buggy  by  Austen's  side.  The  manner  of  these  acts 
and  the  generous  courage  with  which  she  defied  opinion 
appealed  to  him  so  strongly  that  his  heart  was  beating 
faster  than  Pepper's  hoof-beats  on  the  turf  of  the  pasture. 

"  You  are  very  good  to  come  with  me,"  he  said  gravely, 
when  they  had  reached  the  road;  "perhaps  I  ought  not 
to  have  asked  you." 

"  Why  ?  "  she  asked,  with  one  of  her  direct  looks. 

"  It  was  undoubtedly  selfish,"  he  said,  and  added,  more 
lightly,  "  I  don't  wish  to  put  you  into  Mrs.  Pomfret's 
bad  graces." 


124  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

Victoria  laughed. 

"  She  thought  it  her  duty  to  tell  father  the  time  you 
drove  me  to  the  Hammonds'.  She  said  I  asked  you  to 
do  it." 

"  What  did  he  say  ?  "  Austen  inquired,  looking  straight 
ahead  of  him. 

"  He  didn't  say  much,"  she  answered.  "  Father  never 
does.  I  think  he  knows  that  I  am  to  be  trusted." 

"  Even  with  me  ?  "  he  asked  quizzically,  but  with  a 
deeper  significance. 

"  I  don't  think  he  realizes  how  dangerous  you  are," 
she  replied,  avoiding  the  issue.  "  The  last  time  I  saw  you, 
you  were  actually  trying  to  throw  a  fat  man  out  of  your 
window.  What  a  violent  life  you  lead,  Mr.  Vane.  I 
hope  you  haven't  shot  any  more  people." 

"  I  saw  you,"  he  said. 

"  Is  that  the  way  you  spend  your  time  in  office  hours, 
—  throwing  people  out  of  the  windows  ?  " 

"  It  was  only  Tom  Gaylord." 

"  He's  the  man  Mr.  Jenney  said  wanted  you  to  be  a 
senator,  isn't  he  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  You  have  a  good  memory,"  he  answered  her.  "  Yes. 
That's  the  reason  I  tried  to  throw  him  out  of  the 
window." 

"  Why  didn't  you  be  a  senator  ?  "  she  asked  abruptly. 
"  I  always  think  of  you  in  public  life.  Why  waste  your 
opportunities  ?  " 

"  I'm  not  at  all  sure  that  was  an  opportunity.  It  was 
only  some  of  Tom's  nonsense.  I  should  have  had  all  the 
politicians  in  the  district  against  me." 

"  But  you  aren't  the  kind  of  man  who  would  care  about 
the  politicians,  surely.  If  Humphrey  Crewe  can  get 
elected  by  the  people,  I  should  think  you  might." 

"  I  can't  afford  to  give  garden-parties  and  buy  lemon 
ade,"  said  Austen,  and  they  both  laughed.  He  did  not 
think  it  worth  while  mentioning  Mr.  Braden. 

"  Sometimes  I  think  you  haven't  a  particle  of  ambition," 
she  said.  "  I  like  men  with  ambition." 

"  I  shall  try  to  cultivate  it,"  said  Austen. 


THE  TRIALS   OF   AN   HONOURABLE         125 

"You  seem  to  be  popular  enough." 

"  Most  worthless  people  are  popular,  because  they  don't 
tread  on  anybody's  toes." 

"  Worthless  people  don't  take  up  poor  people's  suits, 
and  win  them,"  she  said.  "  I  saw  Zeb  Header  the  other 
day,  and  he  said  you  could  be  President  of  the  United 
States." 

"Zeb  meant  that  I  was  eligible  —  having  been  born  in 
this  country,"  said  Austen.  "But  where  did  you  see  him?" 

"I  —  I  went  to  see  him." 

"  All  the  way  to  Mercer  ?  " 

"  It  isn't  so  far  in  an  automobile,"  she  replied,  as  though 
in  excuse,  and  added,  still  more  lamely,  "  Zeb  and  I  be 
came  great  friends,  you  know,  in  the  hospital." 

He  did  not  answer,  but  wondered  the  more  at  the 
simplicity  and  kindness  in  one  brought  up  as  she  had 
been  which  prompted  her  to  take  the  trouble  to  see  the 
humblest  of  her  friends  :  nay,  to  take  the  trouble  to  have 
humble  friends. 

The  road  wound  along  a  ridge,  and  at  intervals  was 
spread  before  them  the  full  glory  of  the  September 
sunset,  —  the  mountains  of  the  west  in  blue-black  sil 
houette  against  the  saffron  sky,  the  myriad  dappled  clouds, 
the  crimson  fading  from  the  still  reaches  of  the  river,  and 
the  wine-colour  from  the  eastern  hills/  Both  were  silent 
under  the  spell,  but  a  yearning  arose  within  him  when 
he  glanced  at  the  sunset  glow  on  her  face  :  would  sunsets 
hereafter  bring  sadness  ? 

His  thoughts  ran  riot  as  the  light  faded  in  the  west. 
Hers  were  not  revealed.  And  the  silence  between  them 
seemed  gradually  to  grow  into  a  pact,  to  become  a  subtler 
and  more  intimate  element  than  speech.  A  faint  tang  of 
autumn  smoke  was  in  the  air,  a  white  mist  crept  along 
the  running  waters,  a  silver  moon  like  a  new-stamped  coin 
rode  triumphant  in  the  sky,  impatient  to  proclaim  her  glory; 
and  the  shadows  under  the  ghost-like  sentinel  trees  in  the 
pastures  grew  blacker.  At  last  Victoria  looked  at  him. 

"  You  are  the  only  man  I  know  who  doesn't  insist  on 
talking,"  she  said.  "  There  are  times  when  —  " 


126  MR.   CREWE'S  CAREER 

"  When  there  is  nothing  to  say,"  he  suggested. 

She  laughed  softly.  He  tried  to  remember  the  sound 
of  it  afterwards,  when  he  rehearsed  this  phase  of  the  con 
versation,  but  couldn't. 

"  It's  because  you  like  the  hills,  isn't  it  ?  "  she  asked. 
"  You  seem  such  an  out-of-door  person,  and  Mr.  Jenney 
said  you  were  always  wandering  about  the  country-side." 

"Mr.  Jenney  also  made  other  reflections  about  my 
youth,"  said  Austen. 

She  laughed  again,  acquiescing  in  his  humour,  secretly 
thankful  not  to  find  him  sentimental. 

"  Mr.  Jenney  said  something  else  that  —  that  I  wanted 
to  ask  you  about,"  she  went  on,  breathing  more  deeply. 
"  It  was  about  the  railroad." 

"  I  am  afraid  you  have  not  come  to  an  authority,"  he 
replied. 

"  You  said  the  politicians  would  be  against  you  if  you 
tried  to  become  a  State  senator.  Do  you  believe  that  the 
politicians  are  owned  by  the  railroad  ?  " 

"Has  Jenney  been  putting  such  things  into  your 
head  ?  " 

"  Not  only  Mr.  Jenney,  but  —  I  have  heard  other  people 
say  that.  And  Humphrey  Crewe  said  that  you  hadn't  a 
chance  politically,  because  you  had  opposed  the  railroad 
and  had  gone  against  your  own  interests." 

Austen  was  amazed  at  this  new  exhibition  of  courage 
on  her  part,  though  he  was  sorely  pressed. 

"  Humphrey  Crewe  isn't  much  of  an  authority,  either," 
he  said  briefly. 

"  Then  you  won't  tell  me  ?  "  said  Victoria,  "  Oh,  Mr. 
Vane,"  she  cried,  with  sudden  vehemence,  "  if  such  things 
are  going  on  here,  I'm  sure  my  father  doesn't  know  about 
them.  This  is  only  one  State,  and  the  railroad  runs 
through  so  many.  He  can't  know  everything,  and  I  have 
heard  him  say  that  he  wasn't  responsible  for  what  the  poli 
ticians  did  in  his  name.  If  they  are  bad,  why  don't  you 
go  to  him  and  tell  him  so  ?  I'm  sure  he'd  listen  to  you." 

"I'm  sure  he'd  think  me  a  presumptuous  idiot,"  said 
Austen.  "  Politicians  are  not  idealists  anywhere  —  the 


THE  TRIALS  OF  AN  HONOURABLE         127 

very  word  has  become  a  term  of  reproach.  Undoubtedly 
your  father  desires  to  set  things  right  as  much  as  any  one 
else  —  probably  more  than  any  one." 

"  Oh,  I  know  he  does,"  exclaimed  Victoria. 

"  If  politics  are  not  all  that  they  should  be,"  he  went  on, 
somewhat  grimly,  with  an  unpleasant  feeling  of  hypocrisy, 
"  we  must  remember  that  they  are  nobody's  fault  in  par 
ticular,  and  can't  be  set  right  in  an  instant  by  any  one 
man,  no  matter  how  powerful." 

She  turned  her  face  to  him  gratefully,  but  he  did  not 
meet  her  look.  They  were  on  the  driveway  of  Fairview. 

"I  suppose  you  think  me  very  silly  for  asking  such 
questions,"  she  said. 

"  No,"  he  answered  gravely,  "  but  politics  are  so  in 
tricate  a  subject  that  they  are  often  not  understood  by 
those  who  are  in  the  midst  of  them.  I  admire  —  I 
think  it  is  very  fine  in  you  to  want  to  know." 

"  You  are  not  one  of  the  men  who  would  not  wish  a 
woman  to  know,  are  you  ?  " 

"No,"  he  said,  "no,  I'm  not." 

The  note  of  pain  in  his  voice  surprised  and  troubled 
her.  They  were  almost  in  sight  of  the  house. 

"  I  asked  you  to  come  to  Fairview,"  she  said,  assuming 
a  lightness  of  tone,  "  and  you  never  appeared.  I  thought 
it  was  horrid  of  you  to  forget,  after  we'd  been  such 
friends." 

"  I  didn't  forget,"  replied  Austen. 

"  Then  you  didn't  want  to  come." 

He  looked  into  her  eyes,  and  she  dropped  them. 

"  You  will  have  to  be  the  best  judge  of  that,"  he  said. 

"  But  what  am  I  to  think  ?  "  she  persisted. 

"  Think  the  best  of  me  you  can,"  he  answered,  as  they 
drew  up  on  the  gravel  before  the  open  door  of  Fairview 
house.  A  man  was  standing  in  the  moonlight  on  the 
porch. 

"  Is  that  you,  Victoria?  " 

"  Yes,  father." 

"  I  was  getting  worried,"  said  Mr.  Flint,  coming  down 
on  the  driveway. 


128  MR.    CREWE'S   CAREER 

"  I'm  all  right,"  she  said,  leaping  out  of  the  buggy,  "  Mr. 
Vane  brought  me  home." 

"How  are  you,  Hilary?"  said  Mr.  Flint. 

"  I'm  Austen  Vane,  Mr.  Flint,"  said  Austen. 

"How  are  you?"  said  Mr.  Flint,  as  curtly  as  the  barest 
politeness  allowed.  "  What  was  the  matter  with  your 
own  horse,  Victoria  ?  " 

"Nothing,"  she  replied,  after  an  instant's  pause.  Austen 
wondered  many  times  whether  her  lips  had  trembled. 
"  Mr.  Vane  asked  me  to  drive  with  him,  and  I  came. 
Won't  —  won't  you  come  in,  Mr.  Vane?" 

"No,  thanks,"  said  Austen,  "I'm  afraid  I  have  to  go 
back  to  Ripton." 

"  Good-by,  and  thank  you,"  she  said,  and  gave  him  her 
hand.  As  he  pressed  it,  he  thought  he  felt  the  slightest 
pressure  in  return,  —  and  then  she  fled  up  the  steps.  As 
he  drove  away,  he  turned  once  to  look  at  the  great  house, 
with  its  shades  closely  drawn,  as  it  stood  amidst  its  set 
ting  of  shrubbery  silent  under  the  moon. 

An  hour  later  he  sat  in  Hanover  Street  before  the 
supper  Euphrasia  had  saved  for  him.  But  though  he  tried 
nobly,  his  heart  was  not  in  the  relation,  for  her  benefit,  of 
Mr.  Crewe's  garden-party. 


CHAPTER   IX 

ME.    CUE  WE   ASSAULTS   THE   CAPITAL 

THOSE  portions  of  the  biographies  of  great  men  which 
deal  with  the  small  beginnings  of  careers  are  always 
eagerly  devoured,  and  for  this  reason  the  humble  entry  of 
Mr.  Crewe  into  politics  may  be  of  interest.  Great  revo 
lutions  have  had  their  origins  in  back  cellars;  great 
builders  of  railroads  have  begun  life  with  packs  on  their 
shoulders,  trudging  over  the  wilderness  which  they  were  to 
traverse  in  after  years  in  private  cars.  The  history  of  Na 
poleon  Bonaparte  has  not  a  Sunday-school  moral,  but  we 
can  trace  therein  the  results  of  industry  after  the  future 
emperor  got  started.  Industry,  and  the  motto  nil  desper- 
andum  lived  up  to,  and  the  watchword  "  thorough,"  and  a 
touch  of  unsuspected  genius,  and  de  Taudace^  toujours  de 
Taudace,  and  a  man  may  go  far  in  life. 

Mr.  Humphrey  Crewe  possessed,  as  may  have  been  sur 
mised,  a  dash  of  all  these  gifts.  For  a  summary  of  his 
character  one  would  not  have  used  the  phrase  (as  a  con 
temporary  of  his  remarked)  of  "  a  shrinking  violet."  The 
phrase,  after  all,  would  have  fitted  very  few  great  men; 
genius  is  sure  of  itself,  and  seeks  its  peers. 

The  State  capital  is  an  old  and  beautiful  and  somewhat 
conservative  town.  Life  there  has  its  joys  and  sorrows 
and  passions,  its  ambitions  and  heartburnings,  to  be  sure; 
a  most  absorbing  novel  could  be  written  about  it,  and  the 
author  need  not  go  beyond  the  city  limits  or  approach  the 
state-house  or  the  Pelican  Hotel.  The  casual  visitor  in 
that  capital  leaves  it  with  a  sense  of  peace,  the  echo  of 
church  bells  in  his  ear,  and  (if  in  winter)  the  impression 
of  dazzling  snow.  Comedies  do  not  necessarily  require  a 
wide  stage,  nor  tragedies  an  amphitheatre  for  their  enact 
ment. 

K  129 


130  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

No  casual  visitor,  for  instance,  would  have  suspected 
from  the  faces  or  remarks  of  the  inhabitants  whom  he 
chanced  to  meet  that  there  was  excitement  in  the  capital 
over  the  prospective  arrival  of  Mr.  Humphrey  Crewe 
for  the  legislative  session  that  winter.  Legislative  ses 
sions,  be  it  known,  no  longer  took  place  in  the  summer,  — 
a  great  relief  to  Mr.  Crewe  and  to  farmers  in  general,  who 
wished  to  be  at  home  in  haying  time. 

The  capital  abounded  in  comfortable  homes  and  boasted 
not  a  few  dwellings  of  larger  pretensions.  Chief  among 
these  was  the  Duncan  house  —  still  so  called,  although 
Mr.  Duncan,  who  built  it,  had  been  dead  these  fifteen 
years,  and  his  daughter  and  heiress,  Janet,  had  married  an 
Italian  Marquis  and  lived  in  a  Roman  palace,  rehabilitated 
by  the  Duncan  money.  Mr.  Duncan,  it  may  be  recalled 
by  some  readers  of  "  Coniston,"  had  been  a  notable  man  in 
his  clay,  who  had  married  the  heiress  of  the  State,  and  was 
president  of  the  Central  Railroad,  now  absorbed  in  the 
United  Northeastern.  The  house  was  a  great  square  of 
brick,  with  a  wide  cornice,  surrounded  by  a  shaded  lawn; 
solidly  built,  in  the  fashion  of  the  days  when  rich  people 
stayed  at  home,  with  a  conservatory  and  a  library  that  had 
once  been  Mr.  Duncan's  pride.  The  Marchesa  cared  very 
little  about  the  library,  or  about  the  house,  for  that  matter; 
a  great  aunt  and  uncle,  spinster  and  bachelor,  were  living 
in  it  that  winter,  and  they  vacated  for  Mr.  Crewe.  He ; 
travelled  to  the  capital  on  the  legislative  pass  the  North 
eastern  Railroads  had  so  kindly  given  him,  and  brought, 
down  his  horses  and  his  secretary  and  servants  from  Leith  i 
a  few  days  before  the  first  of  January,  when  the  session  i 
was  to  open,  and  laid  out  his  bills  for  the  betterment  of: 
the  State  on  that  library  table  where  Mr.  Duncan  had  I 
lovingly  thumbed  his  folios.  Mr.  Crewe,  with  characteris 
tic  promptitude,  set  his  secretary  to  work  to  make  a  list 
of  the  persons  of  influence  in  the  town,  preparatory  to  a 
series  of  dinner-parties;  he  dropped  into  the  office  of  Mr.. 
Ridout,  the  counsel  of  the  Northeastern  and  of  the  Winonai 
Corporation  in  the  capital,  to  pay  his  respects  as  a  man* 
of  affairs,  and  incidentally  to  leave  copies  of  his  bills  for 


MR.   CREWE  ASSAULTS  THE   CAPITAL        131 

the  improvement  of  the  State.  Mr.  Ridout  was  politely 
interested,  and  promised  to  read  the  bills,  and  agreed  that 
they  ought  to  pass. 

Mr.  Crewe  also  examined  the  Pelican  Hotel,  so  soon  to 
be  a  hive,  and  stood  between  the  snowbanks  in  the  capi 
tal  park  contemplating  the  statue  of  the  great  statesman 
there,  and  repeating  to  himself  the  quotation  inscribed 
beneath.  "  The  People's  Government,  made  for  the  Peo 
ple,  made  by  the  People,  and  answerable  to  the  People." 
And  he  wondered,  idly,  —  for  the  day  was  not  cold,  —  how 
he  would  look  upon  a  pedestal  with  the  Gladstone  collar  and 
the  rough  woollen  coat  that  would  lend  themselves  so 
readily  to  reproduction  in  marble.  Stranger  things  had 
happened,  and  grateful  States  had  been  known  to  reward 
benefactors. 

At  length  comes  the  gala  night  of  nights,  —  the  last  of 
the  old  year,  —  and  the  assembling  of  the  five  hundred 
legislators  and  of  the  army  that  is  wont  to  attend  them. 
The  afternoon  trains,  steaming  hot,  are  crowded  to  the 
doors,  the  station  a  scene  of  animation,  and  Main  Street, 
dazzling  in  snow,  is  alive  with  a  stream  of  men,  with 
eddies  here  and  there  at  the  curbs  and  in  the  entries. 
What  hand-shaking,  and  looking  over  of  new  faces,  and 
walking  round  and  round!  What  sightseeing  by  the 
country  members  and  their  wives  who  have  come  to  at 
tend  the  inauguration  of  the  new  governor,  the  Honour 
able  Asa  P.  Gray !  There  he  is,  with  the  whiskers  and 
the  tall  hat  and  the  comfortable  face,  which  wears  already 
a  look  of  gubernatorial  dignity  and  power .  He  stands  for 
a  moment  in  the  lobby  of  the  Pelican  Hotel,  —  thronged 
now  to  suffocation,  —  to  shake  hands  genially  with  new 
friends,  who  are  led  up  by  old  friends  with  two  fingers  on 
the  elbow.  The  old  friends  crack  jokes  and  whisper  in 
the  ear  of  the  governor-to-be,  who  presently  goes  upstairs, 
accompanied  by  the  Honourable  Hilary  Yaiie,  to  the  bridal 
suite,  which  is  reserved  for  him,  and  which  has  fire-proof 
carpet  on  the  floor.  The  Honourable  Hilary  has  a  room 
next  door,  connecting  with  the  new  governor's  by  folding 
doors,  but  this  fact  is  not  generally  known  to  country 


132  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

members.  Only  old  timers,  like  Bijah  Bixby  and  Job 
Braden,  know  that  the  Honourable  Hilary's  room  cor 
responds  to  one  which  in  the  old  Pelican  was  called 
the  Throne  Room,  Number  Seven,  where  Jethro  Bass  sat 
in  the  old  days  and  watched  unceasingly  the  groups  in 
the  street  from  the  window. 

But  Jethro  Bass  has  been  dead  these  twenty  years,  and 
his  lieutenants  shorn  of  power.  An  empire  has  arisen  out 
of  the  ashes  of  the  ancient  kingdoms.  Bijah  and  Job  are 
old,  all-powerful  still  in  Clovelly  and  Leith  —  influential 
still  in  their  own  estimations ;  still  kicking  up  their  heels 
behind,  still  stuttering  and  whispering  into  ears,  still 
"going  along  by  when  they  are  talking  sly."  But  there 
are  no  guerrillas  now,  no  coiidottieri  who  can  be  hired: 
the  empire  has  a  paid  and  standing  army,  as  an  empire 
should.  The  North  Country  chiefs,  so  powerful  in  the 
clan  warfare  of  bygone  days,  are  generals  now,  —  chiefs 
of  staff.  The  captain-general,  with  a  minute  piece  of 
Honey  Dew  under  his  tongue,  sits  in  Number  Seven.  A 
new  Number  Seven,  —  with  electric  lights  and  a  bathroom 
and"  a  brass  bed.  Tempora  mutantur.  There  is  an  em 
pire  and  a  feudal  system,  did  one  but  know  it.  The  clans 
are  part  of  the  empire,  and  each  chief  is  responsible  for 
his  clan  —  did  one  but  know  it.  One  doesn't  know  it. 

The  Honourable  Brush  Bascom,  Duke  of  Putnam,  mem 
ber  of  the  House,  has  arrived  unostentatiously  —  as  is  his 
custom  —  and  is  seated  in  his  own  headquarters,  number 
ten  (with  a  bathroom).  Number  nine  belongs  from  year 
to  year  to  Mr.  Manning,  division  superintendent  of  that 
part  of  the  Northeastern  which  was  the  old  Central,  —  a 
thin  gentleman  with  side-whiskers.  He  loves  life  in  the 
capital  so  much  that  he  takes  his  vacations  there  in  the 
winter,  —  during  the  sessions  of  the  Legislature,  —  presum 
ably  because  it  is  gay.  There  are  other  rooms,  higher  up, 
of  important  men,  to  be  sure,  but  to  enter  which  it  is  not 
so  much  of  an  honour.  The  Honourable  Bill  Fleming, 
postmaster  of  Brampton  in  Truro  (Ephraim  Prescott 
being  long  since  dead  and  Brampton  a  large  place  now), , 
has  his  vacation  during  the  session  in  room  thirty-six  (no  • 


MR.   CREWE  ASSAULTS   THE   CAPITAL       133 

bathroom) ;  and  the  Honourable  Elisha  Jane,  Earl  of 
Haines  County  in  the  North  Country,  and  United  States 
consul  somewhere,  is  home  on  his  annual  vacation  in  room 
fifty-nine  (no  bath).  Senator  Whitredge  has  a  room,  and 
Senator  Green,  and  Congressmen  Eldridge  and  Fairplay  — 
(no  baths,  and  only  temporary). 

The  five  hundred  who  during  the  next  three  months 
are  to  register  the  laws  find  quarters  as  best  they  can. 
Not  all  of  them  are  as  luxurious  as  Mr.  Ore  we  in  the 
Duncan  house,  or  the  Honourable  Brush  Bascom  in  num 
ber  ten  of  the  Pelican,  the  rent  of  either  of  which  would 
swallow  the  legislative  salary  in  no  time.  The  Honour 
able  Nat  Billings,  senator  from  the  Putnam  County  dis 
trict,  is  comfortably  installed,  to  be  sure.  By  gradual  and 
unexplained  degrees,  the  constitution  of  the  State  has 
been  changed  until  there  are  only  twenty  senators.  Noble 
five  hundred!  Steadfast  twenty! 

A  careful  perusal  of  the  biographies  of  great  men  of 
the  dynamic  type  leads  one  to  the  conclusion  that  much  of 
their  success  is  due  to  an  assiduous  improvement  of  every 
opportunity,  —  and  Mr.  Humphrey  Crewe  certainly  pos 
sessed  this  quality,  also.  He  is  in  the  Pelican  Hotel  this 
evening,  meeting  the  men  that  count.  Mr.  Job  Braden, 
who  had  come  down  with  the  idea  that  he  might  be  of  use 
in  introducing  the  new  member  from  Leith  to  the  notables, 
was  met  by  this  remark:  — 

"  You  can't  introduce  me  to  any  of  'em  —  they  all  know 
who  I  am.  Just  point  any  of  'em  out  you  think  I  ought 
to  know,  and  I'll  go  up  and  talk  to  'em.  What  ?  Come 
up  to  my  house  after  a  while  and  smoke  a  cigar.  The 
Duncan  house,  you  know  —  the  big  one  with  the  con 
servatory." 

Mr.  Crewe  was  right  —  they  all  knew  him.     The  Leith 
millionaire,  the  summer  resident,  was  a  new  factor  in  poli 
tics,  and  the  rumours  of  the  size  of  his  fortune  had  reached  a 
I  high-water  mark  in  the  Pelican  Hotel  that  evening.      Push- 
I  ing  through  the  crowd  in  the  corridor  outside  the  bridal 
'  suite  waiting  to  shake  hands  with  the  new  governor,  Mr. 
I  Crewe  gained  an  entrance  in  no  time,  and  did  not  hesitate 


134  MR.   CREWE'S  CAREER 

to  interrupt  the  somewhat  protracted  felicitations  of  an 
Irish  member  of  the  Newcastle  delegation. 

"  How  are  you,  Governor  ?  "  he  said,  with  the  bonhomie 
of  a  man  of  the  world.  "  I'm  Humphrey  Crewe,  from  Leith. 
You  got  a  letter  from  me,  didn't  you,  congratulating  you 
upon  your  election  ?  We  didn't  do  badly  for  you  up  there. 
What?" 

"  How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Crewe  ? "  said  Mr.  Gray,  with 
dignified  hospitality,  while  their  fingers  slid  over  each 
other's  ;  "  I'm  glad  to  welcome  you  here.  I've  noticed  the 
interest  you've  taken  in  the  State,  and  the  number  of — 
ahem  —  very  useful  societies  to  which  you  belong." 

"Good,"  said  Mr.  Crewe,  "I  do  what  I  can.  I  just 
dropped  in  to  shake  your  hand,  and  to  say  that  I  hope  we'll 
pull  together." 

The  governor  lifted  his  eyebrows  a  little. 

"  Why,  I  hope  so,  I'm  sure,  Mr.  Crewe,"  said  he. 

"  I've  looked  over  the  policy  of  the  State  for  the  last 
twenty  years  in  regard  to  public  improvements  and  the 
introduction  of  modern  methods  as  concerns  husbandry, 
and  I  find  it  deplorable.  You  and  I,  Governor,  live  in  a 
progressive  age,  and  we  can't  afford  not  to  see  something 
done.  What  ?  It  is  my  desire  to  do  what  I  can  to  help 
make  your  administration  a  notable  advance  upon  those  of  \ 
your  predecessors." 

"  Why  —  I  greatly  appreciate  it,  Mr.  Crewe,"  said  Mr. 
Gray. 

"  I'm  sure  you  do.    I've  looked  over  your  record,  and  I 
find  you've  had  experience  in  State  affairs,  and  that  youi 
are  a  successful  and  conservative  business  man.     That  is< 
the  type  we  want  —  eh?      Business  men.     You've  read  I 
over  the  bills  I  sent  you  by  registered  mail  ?  " 

"  Ahem,"  said  Mr.  Gray,  "  I've  been  a  good  deal  occu 
pied  since  election  day,  Mr.  Crewe." 

"  Read  'em,"  said  Mr.   Crewe,  "and  I'll  call  in  on  you! 
at  the   state-house    day  after   to-morrow  at   five   o'clock;] 
promptly.     We'll  discuss  'em,  Governor,  and  if,  by  the  I 
light  of   your  legislative  experience,  you  have  any  sug 
gestions  to  make,  I  shall  be  glad  to   hear  'em.     Before 


MR.   CREWE  ASSAULTS   THE   CAPITAL       135 

putting  the  bills  in  their  final  shape  I've  taken  the  trouble 
to  go  over  them  with  my  friend,  Mr.  Flint  —  our  mutual 
friend,  let  us  say." 

"  I've  had  the  pleasure  of  meeting  Mr.  Flint,"  said 
Mr.  Gray.  "I  —  ahem  —  can't  say  that  I  know  him  inti 
mately." 

Mr.  Crewe  looked  at  Mr.  Gray  in  a  manner  which  plainly 
indicated  that  he  was  not  an  infant. 

"My  relations  with  Mr.  Flint  and  the  Northeastern 
have  been  very  pleasant,"  said  Mr.  Crewe.  "  I  may  say 
that  I  am  somewhat  of  a  practical  railroad  and  business 
man  myself." 

"  We  need  such  men,"  said  Mr.  Gray.  "  Why,  how  do 
you  do,  Gary  ?  How  are  the  boys  up  in  Wheeler  ?  " 

"  Well,  good-by,  Governor.  See  you  day  after  to-morrow 
at  five  precisely,"  said  Mr.  Crewe. 

The  next  official  call  of  Mr.  Crewe  was  on  the  Speaker- 
to-be,  Mr.  Doby  of  Hale  (for  such  matters  are  cut  and 
dried),  but  any  amount  of  pounding  on  Mr.  Doby's  door 
(number  seventy-five)  brought  no  response.  Other  rural 
members  besides  Mr.  Crewe  came  and  pounded  on  that 
door,  and  went  away  again;  but  Mr.  Job  Braden  suddenly 
appeared  from  another  part  of  the  corridor,  smiling  be 
nignly,  and  apparently  not  resenting  the  refusal  of  his 
previous  offers  of  help. 

"  W-want  the  Speaker  ?  "  he  inquired. 

Mr.  Crewe  acknowledged  that  he  did. 

"Ed  only  sleeps  there,"  said  Mr.  Braden.  "Guess 
you'll  find  him  in  the  Railroad  Room." 

"  Railroad  Room  ?  " 

"  Hilary  Vane's,  Number  Seven."  Mr.  Braden  took  hold 
of  the  lapel  of  his  fellow-townsman's  coat.  "  Callated  you 
didn't  know  it  all,"  he  said ;  "  that's  the  reason  I  come 
down  —  so's  to  help  you  some." 

Mr.  Crewe,  although  he  was  not  wont  to  take  a  second 
place,  followed  Mr.  Braden  down  the  stairs  to  the  door 
next  to  the  governor's,  where  he  pushed  ahead  of  his 
guide,  through  the  group  about  the  doorway, — none  of 
whom,  however,  were  attempting  to  enter.  They  stared 


136  MR.   CREWE'S  CAREER 

in  some  surprise  at  Mr.  Crewe  as  he  flung  open  the  door 
without  knocking,  and  slammed  it  behind  him  in  Mr. 
Brad  en's  face.  But  the  bewilderment  caused  by  this  act 
of  those  without  was  as  nothing  to  the  astonishment  of 
those  within  —  had  Mr.  Crewe  but  known  it.  An  oil 
painting  of  the  prominent  men  gathered  about  the  marble- 
topped  table  in  the  centre  of  the  room,  with  an  outline 
key  beneath  it,  would  have  been  an  appropriate  work  of 
art  to  hang  in  the  state-house,  as  emblematic  of  the 
statesmanship  of  the  past  twenty  years.  The  Honourable 
Hilary  Vane  sat  at  one  end  in  a  padded  chair;  Mr.  Man 
ning,  the  division  superintendent,  startled  out  of  a  medi 
tation,  was  upright  on  the  end  of  the  bed ;  Mr.  Ridout, 
the  Northeastern's  capital  lawyer,  was  figuring  at  the 
other  end  of  the  table;  the  Honourable  Brush  Bascom  was 
bending  over  a  wide,  sad-faced  gentleman  of  some  two 
hundred  and  fifty  pounds  who  sat  at  the  centre  in  his 
shirt-sleeves,  poring  over  numerous  sheets  in  front  of  him 
which  were  covered  with  names  of  the  five  hundred. 
This  gentleman  was  the  Honourable  Edward  Doby  of 
Hale,  who,  with  the  kind  assistance  of  the  other  gentle 
men  above-named,  was  in  this  secluded  spot  making  up 
a  list  of  his  committees,  undisturbed  by  eager  country 
members.  At  Mr.  Crewe's  entrance  Mr.  Bascom,  with 
great  presence  of  mind,  laid  down  his  hat  over  the  prin 
cipal  list,  while  Mr.  Ridout,  taking  the  hint,  put  the 
Revised  Statutes  on  the  other.  There  was  a  short  si 
lence  ;  and  the  Speaker-to-be,  whose  pencil  had  been 
knocked  out  of  his  hand,  recovered  himself  sufficiently  to 
relight  an  extremely  frayed  cigar. 

Not  that  Mr.  Crewe  was  in  the  least  abashed.  He 
chose  this  opportunity  to  make  a  survey  of  the  situation, 
nodded  to  Mr.  Ridout,  and  walked  up  to  the  padded  arm 
chair. 

"  How  are  you,  Mr.  Vane  ? "  he  said.  "I  thought  I'd  drop 
in  to  shake  hands  with  you,  especially  as  I  have  business 
with  the  Speaker,  and  heard  he  was  here.  But  I'm  glad 
to  have  met  you  for  many  reasons.  I  want  you  to  be 
one  of  the  vice-presidents  of  the  State  Economic  League 


MR.   CREWE   ASSAULTS   THE  CAPITAL       137 

—  it  won't  cost  you  anything.     Ridout  has  agreed  to  let 
his  name  go  on." 

The  Honourable  Hilary,  not  being  an  emotional  man, 
merely  grunted  as  he  started  to  rise  to  his  feet.  What  he 
was  about  to  say  was  interrupted  by  a  timid  knock,  and 
there  followed  another  brief  period  of  silence. 

u  It  ain't  anybody,"  said  Mr.  Bascom,  and  crossing  the 
room,  turned  the  key  in  the  lock.  The  timid  knock  was 
repeated. 

44 1  suppose  you're  constantly  interrupted  here  by  unim 
portant  people,"  Mr.  Crewe  remarked. 

44  Well,"  said  Mr.  Vane,  slowly,  boring  into  Mr.  Crewe 
with  his  eye,  u  that  statement  isn't  far  out  of  the  way." 

44 1  don't  believe  you've  ever  met  me,  Mr.  Vane.  I'm 
Humphrey  Crewe.  We  have  a  good  friend  in  common 
in  Mr.  Flint." 

The  Honourable  Hilary's  hand  passed  over  Mr.  Crewe's 
lightly. 

44  Glad  to  meet  you,  Mr.  Crewe,"  he  said,  and  a  faint 
twinkle  appeared  in  his  eye.  44  Job  has  told  everybody  you 
were  coming  down.  Glad  to  welcome  a  man  of  your  — - 
ahem  —  stamp  into  politics." 

44  I'm  a  plain  business  man,"  answered  Mr.  Crewe, 
modestly;  44  and  although  I  have  considerable  occupation, 
I  believe  that  one  in  my  position  has  duties  to  perform. 
I've  certain  bills  —  " 

44  Yes,  yes,"  agreed  the  Honourable  Hilary;  44  do  you 
know  Mr.  Brush  Bascom  and  Mr.  Manning?  Allow  me 
to  introduce  you,  —  and  General  Doby." 

44  How  are  you,  General  ?  "  said  Mr.  Crewe  to  the  Speaker- 
to-be,  44  I'm  always  glad  to  shake  the  hand  of  a  veteran. 
Indeed,  I  have  thought  that  a  society  —  " 

44 1  earned  my  title,"  said  General  Dob}^  somewhat 
sheepishly,  44  fighting  on  Governor  Brown's  staff.  There 
were  twenty  of  us,  and  we  were  resistless,  weren't  we, 
Brush  ?  " 

44  Twenty  on  a  staff  !  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Crewe. 

44  Oh,  we  furnished  our  own  uniforms  and  paid  our  own 
way  —  except  those  of  us  who  had  passes,"  declared  the 


138  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

General,  as  though  the  memory  of  his  military  career  did 
not  give  him  unalloyed  pleasure.  "  What's  the  use  of 
State  sovereignty  if  you  can't  have  a  glittering  army  to 
follow  the  governor  round  ?  " 

Mr.  Crewe  had  never  considered  this  question,  and  he 
was  not  the  man  to  waste  time  in  speculation. 

"  Doubtless  you  got  a  letter  from  me,  General  Doby," 
he  said.  "  We  did  what  we  could  up  our  way  to  put  you 
in  the  Speaker's  chair." 

General  Doby  creased  a  little  in  the  middle,  to  signify 
that  he  was  bowing. 

"  I  trust  it  will  be  in  my  power  to  reciprocate,  Mr. 
Crewe,"  he  replied. 

"  We  want  to  treat  Mr.  Crewe  right,"  Mr.  Bascom  put  in. 

"  You  have  probably  made  a  note  of  my  requests," 
Mr.  Crewe  continued.  "  I  should  like  to  be  on  the 
Judiciary  Committee,  for  one  thing.  Although  I  am  not 
a  lawyer,  I  know  something  of  the  principles  of  law,  and 
I  understand  that  this  and  the  Appropriations  Committee 
are  the  most  important.  I  may  say  with  truth  that  I 
should  be  a  us-eful  member  of  that,  as  I  am  accustomed  to 
sitting  on  financial  boards.  As  my  bills  are  of  some  con 
siderable  importance  and  deal  with  practical  progressive 
measures,  I  have  no  hesitation  in  asking  for  the  chairman 
ship  of  Public  Improvements,  —  and  of  course  a  mem 
bership  in  the  Agricultural  is  essential,  as  I  have  bills  for 
them.  Gentlemen,*'  he  added  to  the  room  at  large,  "  I 
have  typewritten  manifolds  of  those  bills  which  I  shall 
be  happy  to  leave  here  —  at  headquarters."  And  suiting 
the  action  to  the  word,  he  put  down  a  packet  on  the  table. 

The  Honourable  Brush  Bascom,  accompanied  by  Mr. 
Ridout,  walked  to  the  window  and  stood  staring  at  the 
glitter  of  the  electric  light  on  the  snow.  The  Honourable 
Hilary  gazed  steadily  at  the  table,  while  General  Doby 
blew  his  nose  with  painful  violence. 

"  I'll  do  what  I  can  for  you,  certainly,  Mr.  Crewe,"  he 
said.  "  But  —  what  is  to  become  of  the  other  four  hundred 
and  ninety-nine  ?  The  ways  of  a  Speaker  are  hard,  Mr. 
Crewe,  and  I  have  to  do  justice  to  all." 


MR.   CREWE  ASSAULTS  THE   CAPITAL       139 

"  Well,"  answered  Mr.  Crewe,  "  of  course  I  don't  want 
to  be  unreasonable,  and  I  realize  the  pressure  that's  put 
upon  you.  But  when  you  consider  the  importance  of  the 
work  I  came  down  here  to  do  —  " 

"  I  do  consider  it,"  said  the  Speaker,  politely.  "  It's  a 
little  early  to  talk  about  the  make-up  of  committees.  I 
hope  to  be  able  to  get  at  them  by  Sunday.  You  may 
be  sure  I'll  do  my  best  for  you." 

"  We'd  better  make  a  note  of  it,"  said  Mr.  Crewe ;  "  give 
me  some  paper,"  and  he  was  reaching  around  behind 
General  Doby  for  one  of  the  precious  sheets  under  Mr. 
Bascom's  hat,  when  the  general,  with  great  presence  of 
mind,  sat  on  it.  We  have  it,  from  a  malicious  and  un 
trustworthy  source,  that  the  Northeastern  Railroads  paid 
for  a  new  one. 

"  Here,  here,"  cried  the  Speaker,  "  make  the  memo 
randum  here." 

At  this  critical  juncture  a  fortunate  diversion  occurred. 
A  rap  —  three  times  —  of  no  uncertain  quality  was  heard 
at  the  door,  and  Mr.  Brush  Bascom  hastened  to  open  it. 
A  voice  cried  out  :  — 

44  Is  Manning  here  ?  The  boys  are  hollering  for  those 
passes,"  and  a  wiry,  sallow  gentleman  burst  in,  none 
other  than  the  Honourable  Elisha  Jane,  who  was  taking  his 
consular  vacation.  When  his  eyes  fell  upon  Mr.  Crewe 
he  halted  abruptly,  looked  a  little  foolish,  and  gave  a 
questioning  glance  at  the  Honourable  Hilary. 

"Mountain  passes,  Lish?  Sit  down.  Did  I  ever  tell 
you  that  story  about  the  slide  in  Ricket's  Gulch  ?  "  asked 
the  Honourable  Brush  Bascom.  "  But  first  let  me  make 
you  acquainted  with  Mr.  Humphrey  Crewe  of  Leith.  Mr. 
Crewe  has  come  down  here  with  the  finest  lot  of  bills  you 
ever  saw,  and  we're  all  going  to  take  hold  and  put  'em 
through.  Here,  Lish,  I'll  give  you  a  set." 

"Read  'em,  Mr.  Jane,"  urged  Mr.  Crewe.  "I  don't 
claim  much  for  'em,  but  perhaps  they  will  help  to  set  a 
few  little  matters  right — I  hope  so." 

Mr.  Jane  opened  the  bills  with  deliberation,  and  cast 
his  eyes  over  the  headings. 


140  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

"I'll  read  'em  this  very  night,  Mr.  Crewe,"  he  said 
solemnly ;  "  this  meeting  you  is  a  particular  pleasure,  and 
I  have  heard  in  many  quarters  of  these  measures." 

"  Well,"  admitted  Mr.  Crewe,  "  they  may  help  some. 
I  have  a  few  other  matters  to  attend  to  this  evening,  so  I 
must  say  good-night,  gentlemen.  Don't  let  me  interfere 
with  those  'mountain  passes,'  Mr.  Manning." 

With  this  parting  remark,  which  proved  him  to  be  not 
merely  an  idealist  in  politics,  but  a  practical  man,  Mr. 
Crewe  took  his  leave.  And  he  was  too  much  occupied 
with  his  own  thoughts  to  pay  any  attention  to  the  click  of 
the  key  as  it  turned  in  the  lock,  or  to  hear  United  States 
Senator  Whitredge  rap  (three  times)  on  the  door  after 
he  had  turned  the  corner,  or  to  know  that  presently  the 
sliding  doors  into  the  governor's  bridal  suite  were  to  open 
a  trifle,  large  enough  for  the  admission  of  the  body  of  the 
Honourable  Asa  P.  Gray. 

Number  Seven  still  keeps  up  its  reputation  as  the  seat 
of  benevolence,  and  great  public  benefactors  still  meet 
there  to  discuss  the  welfare  of  their  fellow-men  :  the 
hallowed  council  chamber  now  of  an  empire,  seat  of  the 
Governor-general  of  the  State,  the  Honourable  Hilary 
Vane,  and  his  advisers.  For  years  a  benighted  people, 
with  a  fond  belief  in  their  participation  of  Republican 
institutions,  had  elected  the  noble  five  hundred  of  the 
House  and  the  stanch  twenty  of  the  Senate.  Noble  five 
hundreds  (biggest  Legislature  in  the  world)  have  come 
and  gone  ;  debated,  applauded,  fought  and  on  occasions 
denounced,  kicked  over  the  traces,  and  even  wept  —  to  no 
avail.  Behold  that  political  institution  of  man,  repre 
sentative  government  !  There  it  is  on  the  stage,  curtain 
up,  a  sublime  spectacle  for  all  men  to  see,  and  thrill  over 
speeches  about  the  Rights  of  Man,  and  the  Forefathers  in 
the  Revolution  ;  about  Constituents  who  do  not  con 
stitute.  The  High  Heavens  allow  it  and  smile,  and  it 
is  well  for  the  atoms  that  they  think  themselves  free 
American  representatives,  that  they  do  not  feel  the  string 
of  predestination  around  their  ankles.  The  senatorial 
twenty,  from  their  high  carved  seats,  see  the  strings  and 


MR.   CREWE  ASSAULTS  THE   CAPITAL       141 

smile,  too  ;  yes,  and  see  their  own  strings,  and  smile. 
Wisdom  does  not  wish  for  flight.  "  The  people  "  having 
changed  the  constitution,  the  blackbirds  are  reduced 
from  four  and  forty  to  a  score.  This  is  cheaper  —  for  the 
people. 

Democracy  on  the  front  of  the  stage  before  an  applauding 
audience  ;  performers  absorbed  in  their  parts,  forgetting 
that  the  landlord  has  to  be  paid  in  money  yet  to  be  earned. 
Behind  the  stage,  the  real  play,  the  absorbing  interest, 
the  high  stakes  —  occasional  discreet  laughter  through 
the  peep-hole  when  an.  actor  makes  an  impassioned  appeal 
to  the  gods.  Democracy  in  front,  the  Feudal  System,  the 
Dukes  and  Earls  behind  —  but  in  plain  clothes  ;  Democ 
racy  in  stars  and  spangles  and  trappings  and  insignia. 
Or,  a  better  figure,  the  Fates  weaving  the  web  in  that 
mystic  chamber,  Number  Seven,  pausing  now  and  again  to 
smile  as  a  new  thread  is  put  in.  Proclamations,  constitu 
tions,  and  creeds  crumble  before  conditions;  the  Law  of 
Dividends  is  the  high  law,  and  the  Forum  an  open  vent 
through  which  the  white  steam  may  rise  heavenward  and 
be  resolved  again  into  water. 

Mr.  Crewe  took  his  seat  in  the  popular  assemblage  next 
day,  although  most  of  the  five  hundred  gave  up  theirs  to 
the  ladies  who  had  come  to  hear  his  Excellency  deliver  his 
inaugural.  The  Honourable  Asa  made  a  splendid  figure,  all 
agreed,  and  read  his  speech  in  a  firm  and  manly  voice.  A 
large  part  of  it  was  about  the  people ;  some  of  it  about 
the  sacred  government  they  had  inherited  from  their  fore 
fathers  ;  still  another  concerned  the  high  character  and 
achievements  of  the  inhabitants  within  the  State  lines;  the 
name  of  Abraham  Lincoln  was  mentioned,  and,  with  even 
greater  reverence  and  fervour,  the  Republican  party  which 
had  ennobled  and  enriched  the  people —  and  incidentally 
elected  the  governor.  There  was  a  noble  financial  policy, 
a  curtailment  of  expense.  The  forests  should  be  protected, 
roads  should  be  built,  and,  above  all,  corporations  should 
be  held  io  a  strict  accounting. 

Needless  to  say,  the  speech  gave  great  satisfaction  to 
all,  and  many  old  friends  left  the  hall  exclaiming  that  they 


142  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

didn't  believe  Asa  had  it  in  him.  As  a  matter  of  fact 
(known  only  to  the  initiated),  Asa  didn't  have  it  in  him  un 
til  last  night,  before  he  squeezed  through  the  crack  in  the 
folding  doors  from  room  number  six  to  room  Number 
Seven.  The  inspiration  came  to  him  then,  when  he  was 
ennobled  by  the  Governor-general,  who  represents  the 
Empire.  Perpetual  Governor-general,  who  quickens  into 
life  puppet  governors  of  his  own  choosing  !  Asa  has 
agreed,  for  the  honour  of  the  title  of  governor  of  his  State, 
to  act  the  part,  open  the  fairs,  lend  his  magnificent  voice 
to  those  phrases  which  it  rounds  so  well.  It  is  fortunate, 
when  we  smoke  a  fine  cigar  from  Havana,  that  we  cannot 
look  into  the  factory.  The  sight  would  disturb  us.  It 
was  well  for  the  applauding,  deep-breathing  audience  in 
the  state-house  that  first  of  January  that  they  did  not 
have  a  glimpse  in  room  Number  Seven  the  night  before, 
under  the  sheets  that  contained  the  list  of  the  Speaker's 
committees  ;  it  was  well  that  they  could  not  go  back 
to  Ripton  into  the  offices  on  the  square,  earlier  in  De 
cember,  where  Mr.  Hamilton  Tooting  was  writing  the  no 
ble  part  of  that  inaugural  from  memoranda  given  him  by 
the  Honourable  Hilary  Vane.  Yes,  the  versatile  Mr. 
Tooting,  and  none  other,  doomed  forever  to  hide  the  light 
of  his  genius  under  a  bushel!  The  financial  part  was 
written  by  the  Governor-general  himself  —  the  Honour 
able  Hilary  Vane.  And  when  it  was  all  finished  and  re 
vised,  it  was  put  into  a  long  envelope  which  bore  this 
printed  address:  Augustus  P.  Flint,  Pres't  United  North 
eastern  Railroads,  New  York.  And  came  back  with 
certain  annotations  on  the  margin,  which  were  duly  incor 
porated  into  it.  This  is  the  private  history  (which  must 
never  be  told)  of  the  document  which  on  January  first  be 
came,  as  far  as  fame  and  posterity  is  concerned,  the  Hon 
ourable  Asa  P.  Gray's  —  forever  and  forever. 

Mr.  Crewe  liked  the  inaugural,  and  was  one  of  the  first 
to  tell  Mr.  Gray  so,  and  to  express  his  pleasure  and  appre 
ciation  of  the  fact  that  his  request  (mailed  in  November) 
had  been  complied  with,  that  the  substance  of  his  bills 
had  been  recommended  in  the  governor's  programme. 


MR.   CREWE  ASSAULTS  THE  CAPITAL       143 

He  did  not  pause  to  reflect  on  the  maxim,  that  platforms 
are  made  to  get  in  by  and  inaugurals  to  get  started  by. 

Although  annual  efforts  have  been  made  by  various 
public-spirited  citizens  to  build  a  new  state-house,  econ 
omy  —  with  assistance  from  room  Number  Seven  — 
has  triumphed.  It  is  the  same  state-house  from  the 
gallery  of  which  poor  William  Wetherell  witnessed  the 
drama  of  the  Woodchuck  Session,  although  there  are 
more  members  now,  for  the  population  of  the  State  has  in 
creased  to  five  hundred  thousand.  It  is  well  for  General 
Doby,  with  his  two  hundred  and  fifty  pounds,  that  he  is 
in  the  Speaker's  chair;  five  hundred  seats  are  a  good 
many  for  that  hall,  and  painful  in  a  long  session.  The 
Honourable  Brush  Bascom  can  stretch  his  legs,  because 
he  is  fortunate  enough  to  have  a  front  seat.  Upon 
inquiry,  it  turns  out  that  Mr.  Bascom  has  had  a  front 
seat  for  the  last  twenty  years  —  he  has  been  uniformly 
lucky  in  drawing.  The  Honourable  Jacob  Botcher  (ten 
years'  service)  is  equally  fortunate;  the  Honourable  Jake 
is  a  man  of  large  presence,  and  a  voice  that  sounds  as  if 
it  came,  oracularly,  from  the  caverns  of  the  earth.  He 
is  easily  heard  by  the  members  on.  the  back  seats,  while 
Mr.  Bascom  is  not.  Mr.  Ridout,  the  capital  lawyer,  is 
in  the  House  this  year,  and  singularly  enough  has  a  front 
seat  likewise.  It  was  Mr.  Crewe's  misfortune  to  draw 
number  415,  in  the  extreme  corner  of  the  room,  and  next 
the  steam  radiator.  But  he  was  not  of  the  metal  to 
accept  tamely  such  a  ticketing  from  the  hat  of  destiny 
(via  the  Clerk  of  the  House).  He  complained,  as  any 
man  of  spirit  would,  and  Mr.  Utter,  the  polite  clerk,  is 
profoundly  sorry,  —  and  says  it  may  be  managed.  Curi 
ously  enough,  the  Honourable  Brush  Bascom  and  the 
Honourable  Jacob  Botcher  join  Mr.  Crewe  in  his  com 
plaint,  and  reiterate  that  it  is  an  outrage  that  a  man  of 
such  ability  and  deserving  prominence  should  be  among 
the  submerged  four  hundred  and  seventy.  It  is  managed 
in  a  mysterious  manner  we  don't  pretend  to  fathom,  and 
behold  Mr.  Crewe  in  the  front  of  the  Forum,  in  the  seats 
of  the  mighty,  where  he  can  easily  be  pointed  out  from 


144  MR,   CREWE'S   CAREER 

the  gallery  at  the  head  of  the  five  hundred,  between 
those  shining-  leaders  and  parliamentarians,  the  Honour- 
ables  Brush  Bascom  and  Jake  Botcher. 

For  Mr.  Ore  we  has  not  come  to  the  Legislature,  like  the 
country  members  in  the  rear,  to  acquire  a  smattering  of 
parliamentary  procedure  by  the  day  the  Speaker  is  pre 
sented  with  a  gold  watch,  at  the  end  of  the  session.  Not 
he!  Not  the  practical  business  man.  the  member  of 
boards,  the  chairman  and  president  of  societies.  He  has 
studied  the  Rules  of  the  House  and  parliamentary  law, 
you  may  be  sure.  Genius  does  not  corne  unprepared,  and 
is  rarely  caught  napping.  After  the  Legislature  ad 
journed  that  week  the  following  telegram  was  sent  over 
the  wires : — 

Augustus  P.  Flint,  New  York. 

Kindly  use  your  influence  with  Doly  to  secure  my  com 
mittee  appointments.  Important  as  per  my  conversation 
with  you. 

Humphrey  Crewe. 

Nor  was  Mr.  Crewe  idle  from  Saturday  to  Monday  night, 
when  the  committees  were  to  be  announced.  He  sent  to 
the  State  Tribune  office  for  fifty  copies  of  that  valuable 
paper,  which  contained  a  two-column-and-a-half  article 
on  Mr.  Crewe  as  a  legislator  and  financier  and  citizen, 
with  a  summary  of  his  bills  and  an  argument  as  to  how 
the  State  would  benefit  by  their  adoption;  an  accurate  list 
of  Mr.  Crewe's  societies  was  inserted,  and  an  account 
of  his  life's  history,  and  of  those  ancestors  of  his  who 
had  been  born  or  lived  within  the  State.  Indeed,  the 
accuracy  of  this  article  as  a  whole  did  great  credit  to 
the  editor  of  the  State  Tribune,  who  must  have  spent  a 
tremendous  amount  of  painstaking  research  upon  it;  and 
the  article  was  so  good  that  Mr.  Crewe  regretted  (un 
doubtedly  for  the  editor's  sake)  that  a  request  could  not  be 
appended  to  it  such  as  is  used  upon  marriage  and  funeral 
notices:  "New  York,  Boston,  and  Philadelphia  papers 
please  copy." 

Mr.   Crewe  thought  it  his  duty  to  remedy  as  much  as 


MR.   CREWE   ASSAULTS  THE   CAPITAL       145 

possible  the  unfortunate  limited  circulation  of  the  article, 
and  he  spent  as  much  as  a  whole  day  making  out  a  list  of 
friends  and  acquaintances  whom  he  thought  worthy  to 
receive  a  copy  of  the  Tribune,  —  marked  personal.  Vic 
toria  Flint  got  one,  and  read  it  to  her  father  at  the  break 
fast  table.  (Mr.  Flint  did  not  open  his.)  Austen  Vane 
wondered  why  any  man  in  his  obscure  and  helpless  posi 
tion  should  have  been  honoured,  but  honoured  he  was. 
He  sent  his  to  Victoria,  too,  and  was  surprised  to  find 
that  she  knew  his  handwriting  and  wrote  him  a  letter  to 
thank  him  for  it:  a  letter  which  provoked  on  his  part 
much  laughter,  and  elements  of  other  sensations  which, 
according  to  Charles  Reade,  should  form  the  ingredients 
of  a  good  novel.  But  of  this  matter  later. 

Mrs.  Pomfret  and  Alice  each  got  one,  and  each  wrote 
Mr.  Crewe  appropriate  congratulations.  (Alice's  answer 
supervised.)  Mrs.  Chillingham  got  one  ;  the  Honourable 
Hilary  Vane  got  one  —  marked  in  red  ink,  lest  he  should 
have  skipped  it  in  his  daily  perusal  of  the  paper.  Mr. 
Brush  Bascom  got  one  likewise.  But  the  list  of  Mr. 
Crewe's  acquaintances  is  too  long  and  too  broad  to  dwell 
upon  further  in  these  pages. 

The  Monday-night  session  came  at  last,  that  sensational 
hour  when  the  Speaker  makes  those  decisions  to  which 
he  is  supposed  to  have  given  birth  over  Sunday  in  the 
seclusion  of  his  country  home  at  Hale.  Monday-night 
sessions  are,  as  a  rule,  confined  in  attendance  to  the  Hon 
ourable  Brush  Bascom  and  Mr.  Ridout  and  a  few  other 
conscientious  members  who  do  not  believe  in  cheating 
the  State,  but  to-night  all  is  bustle  and  confusion,  and  at 
least  four  hundred  members  are  pushing  down  the  aisles 
and  squeezing  past  each  other  into  the  narrow  seats,  and 
reading  the  State  Tribune  or  the  ringing  words  of  the 
governor's  inaugural  which  they  find  in  the  racks  on  the 
back  of  the  seats  before  them.  Speaker  Doby,  who  has 
been  apparently  deep  in  conference  with  the  most  im 
portant  members  (among  them  Mr.  Crewe,  to  whom  he 
has  whispered  that  a  violent  snow-storm  is  raging  in 
Hale),  raps  for  order;  and  after  a  few  preliminaries  hands 


146  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

to  Mr.  Utter,  the  clerk,  amidst  a  breathless  silence,  the 
paper  on  which  the  parliamentary  career  of  so  many  am 
bitious  statesmen  depends. 

It  is  not  a  pleasure  to  record  the  perfidy  of  man,  nor 
the  lack  of  judgment  which  prevents  him,  in  his  circum 
scribed  lights,  from  recognizing  undoubted  geniuses  when 
he  sees  them.  Perhaps  it  was  jealousy  on  General  Doby's 
part,  and  a  selfish  desire  to  occupy  the  centre  of  the  stage 
himself,  but  at  any  rate  we  will  pass  hastily  over  the  dis 
agreeable  portions  of  this  narrative.  Mr.  Crewe  settled 
himself  with  his  feet  extended,  and  with  a  complacency 
which  he  had  rightly  earned  by  leaving  no  stone  unturned, 
to  listen.  He  sat  up  a  little  when  the  Appropriations 
Committee,  headed  by  the  Honourable  Jake  Botcher,  did 
not  contain  his  name  —  but  it  might  have  been  an  over 
sight  of  Mr.  Utter's;  when  the  Judiciary  (Mr.  Ridout's 
committee)  was  read  it  began  to  look  like  malice ;  com 
mittee  after  committee  was  revealed,  and  the  name  of 
Humphrey  Crewe  might  not  have  been  contained  in  the 
five  hundred  except  as  the  twelfth  member  of  forestry, 
until  it  appeared  at  the  top  of  National  Affairs.  Here 
was  a  broad  enough  field,  certainly, —  the  Trusts,  the 
Tariff,  the  Gold  Standard,  the  Foreign  Possessions,  —  and 
Mr.  Crewe's  mind  began  to  soar  in  spite  of  himself.  Public 
Improvements  was  reached,  and  he  straightened.  Mr. 
Beck,  a  railroad  lawyer  from  Belfast,  led  it.  Mr. 
Crewe  arose,  as  any  man  of  spirit  would,  and  walked 
with  dignity  up  the  aisle  and  out  of  the  house.  This 
deliberate  attempt  to  crush  genius  would  inevitably  react 
on  itself.  The  Honourable  Hilary  Vane  and  Mr.  Flint 
should  be  informed  of  it  at  once. 


CHAPTER  X 

"  FOE   BILLS   MAY   COME,    AN  D   BILLS   MAY   GO  " 

A  MAN  with  a  sense  of  humour  once  went  to  the  capital 
as  a  member  of  the  five  hundred  from  his  town,  and  he 
never  went  back  again.  One  reason  for  this  was  that  he 
died  the  following  year,  —  literally,  the  doctors  said,  from 
laughing  too  much.  I  know  that  this  statement  will  be 
received  incredulously,  and  disputed  by  those  who  claim 
that  laughter  is  a  good  thing;  the  honourable  gentleman 
died  from  too  much  of  a  good  thing.  He  was  overpowered 
by  having  too  much  to  laugh  at,  and  the  undiscerning 
thought  him  a  fool,  and  the  Empire  had  no  need  of  a  court 
jester.  But  many  of  his  sayings  have  lived,  neverthe 
less.  He  wrote  a  poem,  said  to  be  a  plagiarism,  which 
contains  the  quotation  at  the  beginning  of  this  chapter: 
"  For  bills  may  come,  and  bills  may  go,  but  I  go  on  for 
ever."  The  first  person  singular  is  supposed  to  relate  to 
the  United  Northeastern  Railroads.  It  was  a  poor  joke 
at  best. 

It  is  needless  to  say  that  the  gentleman  referred  to  had 
a  back  seat  among  the  submerged  four  hundred  and 
seventy,  —  and  that  he  kept  it.  No  discerning  and  power 
ful  well-wishers  came  forward  and  said  to  him,  "  Friend, 
go  up  higher."  He  sat,  doubled  up,  in  number  460,  and 
the  gods  gave  him  compensation  in  laughter;  he  disturbed 
the  Solons  around  him,  who  were  interested  in  what  was 
going  on  in  front,  and  trying  to  do  their  duty  to  their 
constituents  by  learning  parliamentary  procedure  before 
the  Speaker  got  his  gold  watch  and  shed  tears  over  it. 

The  gentleman  who  laughed  and  died  is  forgotten,  as 
he  deserves  to  be,  and  it  never  occurred  to  anybody  that 
he  might  have  been  a  philosopher,  after  all.  There  is 

147 


148  MR.    CREWE'S   CAREER 

something  irresistibly  funny  about  predestination;  about 
men  who  are  striving  and  learning  and  soberly  voting 
upon  measures  with  which  they  have  as  little  to  do  as 
guinea-pigs.  There  were  certain  wise  and  cynical  atheists 
who  did  not  attend  the  sessions  at  all  except  when  they 
received  mysterious  hints  to  do  so.  These  were  chiefly 
from  Newcastle.  And  there  were  others  who  played 
poker  in  the  state-hou^e  cellar  waiting  for  the  Word  to 
come  to  them,  when  they  went  up  and  voted  (prudently 
counting  their  chips  before  they  did  so),  and  descended 
again.  The  man  with  a  sense  of  humour  laughed  at  these, 
too,  and  at  the  twenty  blackbirds  in  the  Senate,  —  but  not 
so  heartily.  He  laughed  at  their  gravity,  for  no  gravity 
can  equal  that  of  gentlemen  who  play  with  stacked  cards. 

The  risible  gentleman  laughed  at  the  proposed  legisla 
tion,  about  which  he  made  the  song,  and  he  likened  it  to 
a  stream  that  rises  hopefully  in  the  mountains,  and  takes 
its  way  singing  at  the  prospect  of  reaching  the  ocean,  but 
presently  flows  into  a  hole  in  the  ground  to  fill  the  for 
gotten  caverns  of  the  earth,  and  is  lost  to  the  knowledge 
and  sight  of  man.  The  caverns  he  labelled  respectively 
Appropriations,  Railroad,  Judiciary,  and  their  guardians 
were  unmistakably  the  Honourables  Messrs.  Bascom, 
Botcher,  and  Ridout.  The  greatest  cavern  of  all  he  called 
The  Senate. 

If  you  listen,  you  can  hear  the  music  of  the  stream  of 
bills  as  it  is  rising  hopefully  and  flowing  now  :  "  Mr. 
Crewe  of  Leith  gives  notice  that  on  to-morrow  or  some  sub 
sequent  day  lie  will  introduce,  a  bill  entitled  4  An  act  for  the 
Improvement  of  the  State  Highways.''  Mr.  Crewe  of  Leith 
gives  notice,  etc.  '  An  act  for  the  Improvement  of  the  Prac 
tice  of  Agriculture.''  '•An  act  relating  to  the  State  Indebted 
ness.  '  4  An  act  to  increase  the  State  Forest  Area?  '  '  An  act 
to  incorporate  the  State  Economic  League.'  '  An  act  to  in 
corporate  the  State  Children  s  Charities  Association.''  ;  An 
act  in  relation  to  Abandoned  Farms.'"'  These  were  some  of 
the  most  important,  and  they  were  duly  introduced  on 
the  morrow,  and  gravely  referred  by  the  Speaker  to  vari 
ous  committees.  As  might  be  expected,  a  man  whose 


•<  BILLS   MAY  COME,  AND   BILLS  MAY  GO "      149 

watchword  is  "  thorough  "  immediately  got  a  list  of  those 
committees,  and  lost  no  time  in  hunting  up  the  chairmen 
and  the  various  available  members  thereof. 

As  a  man  of  spirit,  also,  Mr.  Crewe  wrote  to  Mr.  Flint, 
protesting  as  to  the  manner  in  which  he  had  been  treated 
concerning  committees.  In  the  course  of  a  week  he  re 
ceived  a  kind  but  necessarily  brief  letter  from  the  North- 
eastern's  president  to  remind  him  that  he  persisted  in  a 
fallacy  ;  as  a  neighbour,  Mr.  Flint  would  help  him  to  the 
extent  of  his  j)ower,  but  the  Northeastern  Railroads  could 
not  interfere  in  legislative  or  political  matters.  Mr.  Crewe 
was  naturally  pained  by  the  lack  of  confidence  of  his  friend; 
it  seems  useless  to  reiterate  that  he  was  far  from  being  a 
fool,  and  no  man  could  be  in  the  capital  a  day  during 
the  session  without  being  told  of  the  existence  of  Number 
Seven,  no  matter  how  little  the  informant  might  know  of 
what  might  be  going  on  there.  Mr.  Crewe  had  been  fortu 
nate  enough  to  see  the  inside  of  that  mysterious  room,  and, 
being  a  sufficiently  clever  man.  to  realize  the  importance 
and  necessity  of  government  by  corporations,  had  been 
shocked  at  nothing  he  had  seen  or  heard.  However,  had 
he  had  a  glimpse  of  the  Speaker's  lists  under  the  hope 
lessly  crushed  hat  of  Mr.  Bascom,  perhaps  he  might  have 
been  shocked,  after  all. 

It  was  about  this  time  that  a  touching  friendship  began 
which  ought,  in  justice,  to  be  briefly  chronicled.  It  was 
impossible  for  the  Honourable  Brush  Bascom  and  the 
Honourable  Jacob  Botcher  to  have  Mr.  Crewe  sitting  be 
tween  them  and  not  conceive  a  strong  affection  for  him. 
The  Honourable  Brush,  though  not  given  to  expressing 
his  feelings,  betrayed  some  surprise  at  the  volumes  Mr. 
Crewe  had  contributed  to  the  stream  of  bills  ;  and  Mr. 
Botcher,  in  a  Delphic  whisper,  invited  Mr.  Crewe  to  visit 
him  in  room  forty-eight  of  the  Pelican  that  evening.  To 
tell  the  truth,  Mr.  Crewe  returned  the  feeling  of  his  compan 
ions  warmly,  and  he  had  even  entertained  the  idea  of  ask 
ing  them  both  to  dine  with  him  that  evening. 

Number  forty-eight  (the  Honourable  Jake's)  was  a  free- 
and-easy  democratic  resort.  No  three  knocks  and  a  pass- 


150  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

word  before  you  turn  the  key  here.  Almost  before  your 
knuckles  hit  the  panel  you  heard  Mr.  Botcher's  hearty  voice 
shouting  "  Come  in,"  in  spite  of  the  closed  transom.  The 
Honourable  Jake,  being  a  teetotaller,  had  no  bathroom,  and 
none  but  his  intimate  friends  ever  looked  in  the  third  from 
the  top  bureau  drawer. 

The  proprietor  of  the  Pelican,  who  in  common  with  the 
rest  of  humanity  had  fallen  a  victim  to  the  rough  and  honest 
charms  and  hearty  good  fellowship  of  the  Honourable  Jake, 
always  placed  a  large  padded  arm-chair  in  number  forty- 
eight  before  the  sessions,  knowing  that  the  Honourable 
Jake's  constituency  would  be  uniformly  kind  to  him.  There 
Mr.  Botcher  was  wont  to  sit  (when  he  was  not  depressing 
one  of  the  tiles  in  the  rotunda),  surrounded  by  his  friends 
and  their  tobacco  smoke,  discussing  in  his  frank  and  manly 
fashion  the  public  questions  of  the  day. 

Mr.  Crewe  thought  it  a  little  strange  that,  whenever  he 
entered  a  room  in  the  Pelican,  a  silence  should  succeed  the 
buzz  of  talk  which  he  had  heard  through  the  closed  tran 
som  ;  but  he  very  naturally  attributed  this  to  the  con 
straint  which  ordinary  men  would  be  likely  to  feel  in  his 
presence.  In  the  mouth  of  one  presumptuous  member  the 
word  "  railroad  "  was  cut  in  two  by  an  agate  glance  from 
the  Honourable  Brush,  and  Mr.  Crewe  noted  with  some 
surprise  that  the  Democratic  leader  of  the  House,  Mr. 
Painter,  was  seated  on  Mr.  Botcher's  mattress,  with  an 
expression  that  was  in  singular  contrast  to  the  look  of  bold 
defiance  which  he  had  swept  over  the  House  that  afternoon 
in  announcing  his  opposition  policy.  The  vulgar  political 
suggestion  might  have  crept  into  a  more  trivial  mind  than 
Mr.  Crewe's  that  Mr.  Painter  was  being  "put  to  bed,"  the 
bed  being  very  similar  to  that  of  Procrustes.  Mr.  Botcher 
extracted  himself  from  the  nooks  and  crannies  of  his  arm 
chair. 

"  How  are  you,  Crewe?"  he  said  hospitably  ;  "  we're  all 
friends  here  —  eh,  Painter  ?  We  don't  carry  our  quarrels 
outside  the  swinging  doors.  You  know  Mr.  Crewe — by 
sight,  of  course.  Do  you  know  these  other  gentlemen, 
Crewe?  I  didn't  expect  you  so  early." 


"BILLS   MAY   COME,  AND   BILLS   MAY  GO"     151 

The  "  other  gentlemen "  said  that  they  were  happy  to 
make  the  acquaintance  of  their  fellow-member  from  Leith, 
and  seemingly  with  one  consent  began  to  edge  towards  the 
door. 

"  Don't  go,  boys,"  Mr.  Bascom  protested.  "  Let  me  finish 
that  story." 

Some  of  "  the  boys  "  seemed  to  regard  this  statement  as 
humorous,  —  more  humorous,  indeed,  than  the  story 
itself.  And  when  it  was  finished  they  took  their  departure, 
a  trifle  awkwardly,  led  by  Mr.  Painter. 

"  They're  a  little  mite  bashful,"  said  Mr.  Botcher,  apolo 
getically. 

"How  many  more  of  those  bills  have  you  got?"  de 
manded  Mr.  Bascom,  from  the  steam  radiator,  with  char 
acteristic  directness. 

"  I  put  'em  all  in  this  morning,"  said  Mr.  Crewe,  "  but 
I  have  thought  since  of  two  or  three  other  conditions  which 
might  be  benefited  by  legislation." 

"  Well,"  said  Mr.  Bascom,  kindly,  "  if  you  have  any 
more  I  was  going  to  suggest  that  you  distribute  'em  round 
among  the  boys.  That's  the  way  I  do,  and  most  folks 
don't  guess  they're  your  bills.  See  ?  " 

"  What  harm  is  there  in  that  ?  "  demanded  Mr.  Crewe. 
"I'm  not  ashamed  of  'em." 

"  Brush  was  only  lookin'  at  it  from  the  point  of  view 
of  gettin'  'em  through,"  honest  Mr.  Botcher  put  in,  in 
stentorian  tones.  "  It  doesn't  do  for  a  new  member  to  be 
thought  a  hog  about  legislation." 

Now  the  Honourable  Jacob  only  meant  this  in  the 
kindest  manner,  as  we  know,  and  to  give  inexperience  a 
hint  from  well-intentioned  experience.  On  the  other 
hand,  Mr.  Crewe  had  a  dignity  and  a  position  to  uphold. 
He  was  a  personality.  People  who  went  too  far  with  him 
were  apt  to  be  rebuked  by  a  certain  glassy  quality  in  his 
eye,  and  this  now  caused  the  Honourable  Jake  to  draw 
back  perceptibly. 

"  I  see  no  reason  why  a  public-spirited  man  should  be 
open  fro  such  an  imputation,"  said  Mr.  Crewe. 

44  Certainly  not,  certainly  not,"  said  Mr.    Botcher,   in 


152  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

stentorian  tones  of  apology,  "  I  was  only  trying  to  give 
you  a  little  friendly  advice,  but  I  may  have  put  it  too 
strong.  Brush  and  I  —  I  may  as  well  be  plain  about  it, 
Mr.  Crewe  —  have  taken  a  liking  to  you.  Couldn't  help 
it,  sir,  sitting  next  to  you  as  we  do.  We  take  an  interest 
in  your  career,  and  we  don't  want  you  to  make  any  mis 
takes.  Ain't  that  about  it,  Brush  ?  " 

"That's  about  it,"  said  Mr.  Bascom. 

Mr.  Crewe  was  too  big  a  man  not  to  perceive  and 
appreciate  the  sterling  philanthropy  which  lay  beneath 
the  exteriors  of  his  new  friends,  who  scorned  to  flatter 
him. 

"  I  understand  the  spirit  in  which  your  advice  is  given, 
gentlemen,"  he  replied  magnanimously,  "  and  I  appreciate 
it.  We  are  all  working  for  the  same  things,  and  we  all  be 
lieve  that  they  must  be  brought  about  in  the  same  practical 
way.  For  instance,  we  know  as  practical  men  that  the 
railroad  pays  a  large  tax  in  this  State,  and  that  property 
must  take  a  hand  —  a  very  considerable  hand — in  legisla 
tion.  You  gentlemen,  as  important  factors  in  the  Repub 
lican  organization,  are  loyal  to  —  er  —  that  property,  and 
perhaps  for  wholly  desirable  reasons  cannot  bring  forward 
too  many  bills  under  your  own  names.  Whereas  I  —  " 

At  this  point  in  Mr.  Crewe's  remarks  the  Honourable 
Jacob  Botcher  was  seized  by  an  appalling  coughing  fit 
which  threatened  to  break  his  arrn-chair,  probably  owing 
to  the  fact  that  he  had  «*  sallowed  something  which  he 
had  in  his  mouth  the  wrong  way.  Mr.  Bascom,  assisted 
by  Mr.  Crewe,  pounded  him  relentlessly  on  the  back. 

"  I  read  that  article  in  the  Tribune  about  you  with 
great  interest,"  said  Mr.  Bascom,  vvhen  Mr.  Botcher's 
coughing  had  subsided.  "  I  had  no  idea  you  were  so  — 
ahem  —  well  equipped  for  a  political  career.  But  what 
we  wanted  to  speak  to  you  about  was  this,"  he  continued, 
as  Mr.  Crewe  showed  signs  of  breaking  in,  "  those  com 
mittee  appointments  you  desired." 

"  Yes,"  said  Mr.  Crewe,  with  some  pardonable  heat, 
"  the  Speaker  doesn't  seem  to  know  which  side  his  bread's 
buttered  on." 


"BILLS   MAY  COME,  AND   BILLS  MAY  GO"     153 

"What  I  was  going  to  say,"  proceeded  Mr.  Bascom, 
"  was  that  General  Doby  is  a  pretty  good  fellow.  Person 
ally,  I  happen  to  know  that  the  general  feels  very  badly 
that  he  couldn't  give  you  what  you  wanted.  He  took  a 
shine  to  you  that  night  you  saw  him." 

"  Yes,"  Mr.  Botcher  agreed,  for  he  had  quite  recovered, 
"the  general  felt  bad — feels  bad,  I  should  say.  He 
perceived  that  you  were  a  man  of  ability,  sir —  " 

"  And  that  was  just  the  reason,"  said  the  Honourable 
Brush,  ft  that  he  couldn't  make  you  more  useful  just 
now." 

"  There's  a  good  deal  of  jealousy,  my  dear  sir,  against 
young  members  of  ability,"  said  Mr.  Botcher,  in  his  most 
oracular  and  impressive  tones.  "  The  competition  amongst 
those  —  er  —  who  have  served  the  party  is  very  keen  for 
the  positions  you  desired.  I  personally  happen  to  know 
that  the  general  had  you  on  the  Judiciary  and  Appro 
priations,  and  that  some  of  your  —  er  —  well-wishers 
persuaded  him  to  take  you  off  for  your  own  good." 

"  It  wouldn't  do  for  the  party  leaders  to  make  you  too 
prominent  all  at  once,"  said  Mr.  Bascom.  "  You  are 
bound  to  take  an  active  part  in  what  passes  here.  The 
general  said,  4At  all  events  I  will  give  Mr.  Crewe  one 
chairmanship  by  which  he  can  make  a  name  for  himself 
suited  to  his  talents,'  and  he  insisted  on  giving  you,  in 
spite  of  some  remonstrances  from  your  friends,  National 
Affairs.  The  general  urged,  rightly,  that  with  your 
broad  view  and  knowledge  of  national  policy,  it  was  his 
duty  to  put  you  in  that  place  whatever  people  might  say." 

Mr.  Crewe  listened  to  these  explanations  in  some  sur 
prise  ;  and  being  a  rational  man,  had  to  confess  that  they 
were  more  or  less  reasonable. 

"  Scarcely  any  bills  come  before  that  committee,"  he 
objected. 

t4  Ah,"  replied  Mr.  Bascom,  "  that  is  true.  But  the 
chairman  of  that  committee  is  generally  supposed  to  be 
in  line  for  —  er  —  national  honours.  It  has  not  always 
happened  in  the  past,  because  the  men  have  not  proved 
worthy.  But  the  opportunity  is  always  given  to  that 


154  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

chairman  to  make  a  speech  upon  national  affairs  which 
is  listened  to  with  the  deepest  interest." 

"  Is  that  so  ?  "  said  Mr.  Crewe.  He  wanted  to  be  of 
service,  as  we  know.  He  was  a  man  of  ideas,  and  the 
opening  sentences  of  the  speech  were  already  occurring 
to  him. 

"  Let's  go  upstairs  and  see  the  general  now,"  suggested 
Mr.  Botcher,  smiling  that  such  a  happy  thought  should 
have  occurred  to  him. 

"  Why,  I  guess  we  couldn't  do  any  better,"  Mr.  Bascom 
agreed. 

"  Well,"  said  Mr.  Crewe,  "  I'm  willing  to  hear  what 
he's  got  to  say,  anyway." 

Taking  advantage  of  this  generous  concession,  Mr. 
Botcher  hastily  locked  the  door,  and  led  the  way  up  the 
stairway  to  number  seventy-five.  After  a  knock  or  two 
here,  the  door  opened  a  crack,  disclosing,  instead  of  General 
Doby's  cherubic  countenance,  a  sallow  face  with  an  ex 
ceedingly  pointed  nose.  The  owner  of  these  features, 
having  only  Mr.  Botcher  in  his  line  of  vision,  made  what 
was  perhaps  an  unguarded  remark. 

"Hello,  Jake,  the  general's  in  number  nine  —  Manning 
sent  for  him  about  half  an  hour  ago." 

It  was  Mr.  Botcher  himself  who  almost  closed  the  door 
on  the  gentleman's  sharp  nose,  and  took  Mr.  Crewe's  arm 
confidingly. 

"  We'll  go  up  to  the  desk  and  see  Doby  in  the  morn 
ing,  —  he's  busy,"  said  the  Honourable  Jake. 

"  What's  the  matter  with  seeing  him  now  ? "  Mr. 
Crewe  demanded.  "  I  know  Manning.  He's  the  division 
superintendent,  isn't  he  ?  " 

Mr.  Botcher  and  Mr.  Bascom  exchanged  glances. 

"  Why,  yes  —  "  said  Mr.  Bascom,  "  yes,  he  is.  He's  a 
great  friend  of  General  Doby's,  and  their  wives  are  great 
friends." 

"  Intimate  friends,  sir,"  said  the  Honourable  Jake. 

"  Well,"  said  Mr.  Crewe,  "  we  won't  bother  'em  but  a 
moment." 

It  was  he  who  led  the  way  now,  briskly,  the  Honour- 


"  BILLS   MAY  COME,  AND   BILLS   MAY  GO"     155 

able  Brush  and  the  Honourable  Jake  pressing  closely 
after  him.  It  was  Mr.  Crewe  who,  without  pausing  to 
knock,  pushed  open  the  door  of  number  nine,  which  was  not 
quite  closed;  and  it  was  Mr.  Crewe  who  made  the  impor 
tant  discovery  that  the  lugubrious  division  superintend 
ent  had  a  sense  of  humour.  Mr.  Manning  was  seated  at  a 
marble-topped  table  writing  on  a  salmon-coloured  card, 
in  the  act  of  pronouncing  these  words:  — 

"For  Mr.  Speaker  and  Mrs.  Speaker  and  all  the  little 
Speakers,  to  New  York  and  return." 

Mr.  Speaker  Doby,  standing  before  the  marble-topped 
table  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  heard  the  noise  behind 
him  and  turned,  and  a  mournful  expression  spread  over 
his  countenance. 

"  Don't  mind  me,"  said  Mr.  Crewe,  waving  a  hand  in 
the  direction  of  the  salmon-coloured  tickets;  "  I  hope  you 
have  a  good  time,  General.  When  do  you  go  ?  " 

"Why,"  exclaimed  the  Speaker,  "how  are  you,  Mr. 
Crewe,  how  are  you  ?  It's  only  one  of  Manning's  little 
jokes." 

"  That's  all  right,  General,"  said  Mr.  Crewe,  "  I  haven't 
been  a  director  in  railroads  for  nothing.  I'm  not  as  green 
as  he  thinks.  Am  I,  Mr.  Manning  ?  " 

"  It  never  struck  me  that  green  was  your  colour,  Mr. 
Crewe,"  answered  the  division  superintendent,  smiling  a 
little  as  he  tore  the  tickets  into  bits  and  put  them  in  the 
waste-basket. 

"  Well,"  said  Mr.  Crewe,  "  you  needn't  have  torn  'em 
up  on  my  account.  I  travel  on  the  pass  which  the  Northeast 
ern  gives  me  as  a  legislator,  and  I'm  thinking  seriously  of 
getting  Mr.  Flint  to  send  me  an  annual,  now  that  I'm  in 
politics  and  have  to  cover  the  State." 

"  We  thought  you  were  a  reformer,  Mr.  Crewe,"  the 
Honourable  Brush  Bascom  remarked. 

"  I  am  a  practical  man,"  said  Mr.  Crewe,  "  a  railroad 
man,  a  business  man,  and  as  such  I  try  to  see  things  as 
they  are." 

"  Well,"  said  General  Doby,  who  by  this  time  had  re 
gained  his  usual  genial  air  of  composure,  "  I'm  glad  you 


156  MR.   CREWE'S  CAREER 

said  that,  Mr.  Crewe.  As  these  gentlemen  will  tell  you, 
if  I'd  had  iny  wish  I'd  have  had  you  on  every  important 
committee  in  the  House." 

"  Chairman  of  every  important  committee,  General," 
corrected  the  Honourable  Jacob  Botcher. 

"  Yes,  chairman  of  'em,"  assented  the  general,  after  a 
glance  at  Mr.  Crewe's  countenance  to  see  how  this  state 
ment  fared.  "  But  the  fact  is,  the  boys  are  all  jealous  of 
you  —  on  the  quiet.  I  suppose  you  suspected  something 
of  the  kind."  ' 

"  I  should  have  imagined  there  might  be  some  little 
feeling,"  Mr.  Crewe  assented  modestly. 

"  Exactly,"  cried  the  general,  "  and  I  had  to  combat 
that  feeling  when  I  insisted  upon  putting  you  at  the  head 
of  National  Affairs.  It  does  not  do  for  a  new  member, 
whatever  his  prominence  in  the  financial  world,  to  be 
pushed  forward  too  quickly.  And  unless  I  am  mighty 
mistaken,  Mr.  Crewe,"  he  added,  with  his  hand  on  the 
new  member's  shoulder,  "you  will  make  yourself  felt 
without  any  boosting  from  me." 

"  I  did  not  come  here  to  remain  idle,  General,"  answered 
Mr.  Crewe,  considerably  mollified. 

"  Certainly  not,"  said  the  general,  "  and  I  say  to  some 
of  those  men,  4  Keep  your  eye  on  the  gentleman  who  is 
Chairman  of  National  Affairs.'  " 

After  a  little  more  of  this  desultory  and  pleasant 
talk,  during  which  recourse  was  had  to  the  bathroom  for 
several  tall  and  thin  glasses  ranged  on  the  shelf  there, 
Mr.  Crewe  took  his  departure  in  a  most  equable  frame 
of  mind.  And  when  the  door  was  closed  and  locked  be 
hind  him,  Mr.  Manning  dipped  his  pen  in  the  ink,  once 
more  produced  from  a  drawer  in  the  table  the  salmon- 
coloured  tickets,  and  glanced  again  at  the  general  with  a 
smile. 

"  For  Mr.  Speaker  and  Mrs.  Speaker  and  all  the  little 
Speakers,  to  New  York  and  return." 


CHAPTER  XI 

THE    HOPPER 

IT  is  certainly  not  the  function  of  a  romance  to  relate, 
with  the  exactness  of  a  House  journal,  the  proceedings  of 
a  Legislature.  Somebody  has  likened  the  state-house  to 
pioneer  Kentucky,  a  dark  and  bloody  ground  over  which 
the  battles  of  selfish  interests  ebbed  and  flowed,  —  no 
place  for  an  innocent  and  unselfish  bystander  like  Mr. 
Crewe,  who  desired  only  to  make  of  his  State  an  Utopia; 
whose  measures  were  for  the  public  good  —  not  his  own. 
But  if  any  politician  were  fatuous  enough  to  believe  that 
Humphrey  Crewe  was  a  man  to  introduce  bills  and  calmly 
await  their  fate;  a  man  who,  like  Senator  Sanderson,  only 
came  down  to  the  capital  when  he  was  notified  by  tele 
gram,  that  politician  was  entirely  mistaken. 

No  sooner  had  his  bills  been  assigned  to  the  careful  and 
just  consideration  of  the  committees  in  charge  of  the 
Honourable  Brush  Bascom,  Mr.  Botcher,  and  others  than 
Mr.  Crewe  desired  of  each  a  day  for  a  hearing.  Every 
member  of  the  five  hundred  was  provided  with  a  copy; 
nay,  nearly  every  member  was  personally  appealed  to 
to  appear  and  speak  for  the  measures.  Foresters,  road 
builders,  and  agriculturists  (expenses  paid)  were  sent 
for  from  other  States;  Mr.  Ball  and  others  came  down 
from  Leith,  and  gentlemen  who  for  a  generation  had 
written  letters  to  the  newspapers  turned  up  from  other 
localities.  In  two  cases  the  largest  committee  rooms 
proved  too  small  for  the  gathering  which  was  the  result 
of  Mr.  Crewe's  energy,  and  the  legislative  hall  had  to  be 
lighted.  The  State  Tribune  gave  column  reports  of  the 
hearings,  and  little  editorial  pushes  besides.  And  yet, 
when  all  was  over,  when  it  had  been  proved  beyond  a 

157 


158  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

doubt  that,  if  the  State  would  consent  to  spend  a  little 
money,  she  would  take  the  foremost  rank  among  her 
forty  odd  sisters  for  progression,  the  bills  were  still  under 
consideration  by  those  hard-headed  statesmen,  Mr.  Bascom 
and  Mr.  Botcher  and  their  associates. 

It  could  not  be  because  these  gentlemen  did  not  know 
the  arguments  and  see  the  necessity.  Mr.  Crewe  had 
had  them  to  dinner,  and  had  spent  so  much  time  in  their 
company  presenting  his  case  —  to  which  they  absolutely 
agreed  —  that  they  took  to  a  forced  seclusion.  The 
member  from  Leith  also  wrote  letters  and  telegrams,  and 
sent  long  typewritten  arguments  and  documents  to  Mr. 
Flint.  Mr.  Crewe,  although  far  from  discouraged,  began 
to  think  there  was  something  mysterious  about  all  this 
seemingly  unnecessary  deliberation. 

Mr.  Ore  we,  though  of  great  discernment,  was  only  mortal, 
and  while  he  was  fighting  his  battle  single-handed,  how 
was  he  to  know  that  the  gods  above  him  were  taking  sides 
and  preparing  for  conflict  ?  The  gods  do  not  give  out 
their  declarations  of  war  for  publication  to  the  Associated 
Press;  arid  old  Tom  Gaylord,  who  may  be  likened  to  Mars, 
had  no  intention  of  sending  Jupiter  notice  until  he  got  his 
cohorts  into  line.  The  strife,  because  it  was  to  be  inter 
necine,  was  the  more  terrible.  Hitherto  the  Gaylord  Lum 
ber  Company,  like  the  Winona  Manufacturing  Company 
of  Newcastle  (the  mills  of  which  extended  for  miles  along 
the  Tyne),  had  been  a  faithful  ally  of  the  Empire;  and,  on 
occasions  when  it  was  needed,  had  borrowed  the  Imperial 
army  to  obtain  grants,  extensions,  and  franchises. 

The  fact  is  that  old  Tom  Gaylord,  in  the  autumn  pre 
vious,  had  quarrelled  with  Mr.  Flint  about  lumber  rates, 
which  had  been  steadily  rising.  Mr.  Flint  had  been  polite, 
but  firm;  and  old  Tom,  who,  with  all  his  tremendous  prop 
erties,  could  ship  by  no  other  railroad  than  the  North 
eastern,  had  left  the  New  York  office  in  a  black  rage.  A 
more  innocent  citizen  than  old  Tom  would  have  put  his 
case  (which  was  without  doubt  a  strong  one)  before  the 
Railroad  Commission  of  the  State,  but  old  Tom  knew  well 
enough  that  the  Railroad  Commission  was  in  reality  an 


THE   HOPPER  159 

economy  board  of  the  Northeastern  system,  as  much  under 
Mr.  Flint's  orders  as  the  conductors  and  brakemen.  Old 
Tom,  in  consulting  the  map,  conceived  an  unheard-of 
effrontery,  a  high  treason  which  took  away  the  breath  of 
his  secretary  and  treasurer  when  it  was  pointed  out  to  him. 
The  plan  contemplated  a  line  of  railroad  from  the  heart  of 
the  lumber  regions  down  the  south  side  of  the  valley  of 
the  Pingsquit  to  Kingston,  where  the  lumber  could  take 
to  the  sea.  In  short,  it  was  a  pernicious  revival  of  an  obso 
lete  state  of  affairs,  competition,  and  if  persisted  in,  involved 
nothing  less  than  a  fight  to  a  finish  with  the  army,  the 
lobby  of  the  Northeastern.  Other  favoured  beings  stood 
aghast  when  they  heard  of  it,  and  hastened  to  old  Tom 
with  timely  counsel;  but  he  had  reached  a  frame  of  mind 
which  they  knew  well.  He  would  listen  to  no  reason,  and 
maintained  stoutly  that  there  were  other  lawyers  in  the 
world  as  able  in  political  sagacity  and  lobby  tactics  as 
Hilary  Vane;  the  Honourable  Galusha  Hammer,  for  in 
stance,  an  old  and  independent  and  wary  war-horse  who  had 
more  than  once  wrung  compromises  out  of  the  Honourable 
Hilary.  The  Honourable  Galusha  Hammer  was  sent  for,  and 
was  no\v  industriously,  if  quietly  and  unobtrusively,  at  work. 
The  Honourable  Hilary  was  likewise  at  work,  equally  quietly 
and  unobtrusively.  When  the  powers  fall  out,  they  do 
not  open  up  at  once  with  long-distance  artillery.  There 
is  always  a  chance  of  a  friendly  settlement.  The  news  was 
worth  a  good  deal,  for  'instance,  to  Mr.  Peter  Pardriff 
(brother  of  Paul,  of  Ripton),  who  refrained,  with  praise 
worthy  self-control,  from  publishing  it  in  the  State  Trib 
une,  although  the  temptation  to  do  so  must  have  been  great. 
And  most  of  the  senatorial  twenty  saw  the  trouble  coming 
and  braced  their  backs  against  it,  but  in  silence.  The 
capital  had  seen  no  such  war  as  this  since  the  days  of 
Jethro  P>ass. 

In  the  meantime  Mr.  Crewe,  blissfully  ignorant  of  this 
impending  conflict,  was  preparing  a  speech  on  national 
affairs  and  national  issues  which  was  to  startle  an  unsus 
pecting  State.  Mrs.  Pomfret,  who  had  received  many 
clippings  and  pamphlets,  had  written  him  weekly  letters 


160  MR.   CREWE'S  CAREER 

s 

of  a  nature  spurring  to  his  ambition,  which  incidentally 
contained  many  references  to  Alice's  interest  in  his  career. 
And  Mr.  Crewe's  mind,  when  not  intent  upon  affairs  of 
State,  sometimes  reverted  pleasantly  to  thoughts  of  Victoria 
Flint ;  it  occurred  to  him  that  the  Duncan  house  was 
large  enough  for  entertaining,  and  that  he  might  invite 
Mrs.  Pomfret  to  bring  Victoria  and  the  inevitable  Alice 
to  hear  his  oration,  for  which  Mr.  Speaker  Doby  had  set 
a  day. 

In  his  desire  to  give  other  people  pleasure,  Mr.  Ore  we 
took  the  trouble  to  notify  a  great  many  of  his  friends  and 
acquaintances  as  to  the  day  of  his  speech,  in  case  they 
might  wish  to  travel  to  the  State  capital  and  hear  him 
deliver  it.  Having  unexpectedly  received  in  the  mail  a 
cheque  from  Austen  Vane  in  settlement  of  the  case  of  the 
injured  horse,  Austen  was  likewise  invited. 

Austen  smiled  when  he  opened  the  letter,  and  with  its 
businesslike  contents  there  seemed  to  be  wafted  from  it 
the  perfume  and  suppliance  of  a  September  day  in  the 
Vale  of  the  Blue.  From  the  window  of  his  back  office, 
looking  across  the  railroad  tracks,  he  could  see  Sawanec, 
pale  in  her  winter  garb  against  a  pale  winter  sky,  and 
there  arose  in  him  the  old  restless  desire  for  the  Avoods 
and  fields  which  at  times  was  almost  irresistible.  His 
thoughts  at  length  descending  from  the  azure  above  Sa^ 
wanec,  his  eyes  fell  again  on  Mr.  Crewe's  typewritten 
words :  "  It  may  be  of  interest  to  you  that  I  am  to  de 
liver,  on  the  15th  instant,  and  as  the  Chairman  of  the 
House  Committee  on  National  Affairs,  a  speech  upon 
national  policies  which  is  the  result  of  much  thought, 
and  which  touches  upon  such  material  needs  of  our  State 
as  can  be  supplied  by  the  Federal  Government." 

Austen  had  a  brief  fancy,  whimsical  as  it  was,  of  going 
to  hear  him.  Mr.  Crewe,  as  a  type  absolutely  new  to 
him,  interested  him.  He  had  followed  the  unusual  and 
somewhat  surprising  career  of  the  gentleman  from  Leith 
with  some  care,  even  to  the  extent  of  reading  of  Mr. 
Crewe's  activities  in  the  State  Tribunes  which  had  been 
sent  him.  Were  such  qualifications  as  Mr.  Crewe  pos- 


THE  HOPPER  161 

sessed,  lie  wondered,  of  a  kind  to  sweep  their  possessor 
into  high  office  ?  Were  industry,  persistency,  and  a  ca 
pacity  for  taking  advantage  of  a  fair  wind  sufficient  ? 

Since  his  return  from  Pepper  County,  Austen  Vane  had 
never  been  to  the  State  capital  during  a  session,  although 
it  was  common  for  young  lawyers  to  have  cases  before  the 
Legislature.  It  would  have  been  difficult  to  say  why  he 
did  not  take  these  cases,  aside  from  the  fact  that  they 
were  not  very  remunerative.  On  occasions  gentlemen 
from  different  parts  of  the  State,  and  some  from  outside 
of  it  who  had  certain  favours  to  ask  at  the  hands  of  the 
lawmaking  body,  had  visited  his  back  office  and  closed 
the  door  after  them,  and  in  the  course  of  the  conversation 
had  referred  to  the  relationship  of  the  young  lawyer  to 
Hilary  Vane.  At  such  times  Austen  would  freely  ac 
knowledge  the  debt  of  gratitude  he  owed  his  father  for 
being  in  the  world  —  and  refer  them  politely  to  Mr.  Hil 
ary  Vane  himself.  In  most  cases  they  had  followed  his 
advice,  wondering  not  a  little  at  this  isolated  example  of 
quixotism. 

During  the  sessions,  except  for  a  day  or  two  at  week 
ends  which  were  often  occupied  with  conferences,  the 
Honourable  Hilary's  office  was  deserted;  or  rather,  as  we 
have  seen,  his  headquarters  were  removed  to  room  Num 
ber  Seven  in  the  Pelican  Hotel  at  the  capital.  Austen 
got  many  of  the  lay  clients  who  came  to  see  his  father  at 
such  times ;  and  —  without  giving  an  exaggerated  idea 
of  his  income  —  it  might  be  said  that  he  was  beginning  to 
have  what  may  be  called  a  snug  practice  for  a  lawyer  of 
his  experience.  In  other  words,  according  to  Mr.  Tooting, 
who  took  an  intense  interest  in  the  matter,  "  not  wearing 
the  collar  "  had  been  more  of  a  financial  success  for  Austen 
than  that  gentleman  had  imagined.  There  proved  to  be 
many  clients  to  whom  the  fact  that  young  Mr.  Vane  did 
not  carry  a  "  retainer  pass  "  actually  appealed.  These 
clients  paid  their  bills,  but  they  were  neither  large  nor 
influential,  as  a  rule,  with  the  notable  exception  of  the 
Gaylord  Lumber  Company,  where  the  matters  for  trial 
were  not  large.  If  young  Tom  Gaylord  had  had  his  way, 


162  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

Austen  would  have  been  the  chief  counsel  for  the  cor 
poration. 

To  tell  the  truth,  Austen  Vane  had  a  secret  aversion  to 
going  to  the  capital  during  a  session,  a  feeling  that  such 
a  visit  would  cause  him  unhappiness.  In  spite  of  his 
efforts,  and  indeed  in  spite  of  Hilary's,  Austen  and  his 
father  had  grown  steadily  apart.  They  met  in  the  office 
hallway,  in  the  house  in  Hanover  Street  when  Hilary 
came  home  to  sleep,  and  the  elder  Mr.  Vane  was  not  a 
man  to  thrive  on  small  talk.  His  world  was  the  battle 
field  from  which  he  directed  the  forces  of  the  great  cor 
poration  which  he  served,  and  the  cherished  vision  of  a 
son  in  whom  he  could  confide  his  plans,  upon  whose  aid 
and  counsel  he  could  lean,  was  gone  forever.  Hilary 
Vane  had  troublesome  half-hours,  but  on  the  whole  he 
had  reached  the  conclusion  that  this  son,  like  Sarah 
Austen,  was  one  of  those  inexplicable  products  in  which 
an  extravagant  and  inscrutable  nature  sometimes  indulged. 
On  the  rare  evenings  when  the  two  were  at  home  together, 
the  Honourable  Hilary  sat  under  one  side  of  the  lamp 
with  a  pile  of  documents  and  newspapers,  and  Austen 
under  the  other  with  a  book  from  the  circulating  library. 
No  public  questions  could  be  broached  upon  which  they 
were  not  as  far  apart  as  the  poles,  and  the  Honourable 
Hilary  put  literature  in  the  same  category  as  embroidery. 
Euphrasia,  when  she  paused  in  her  bodily  activity  to  darn 
their  stockings,  used  to  glance  at  them  covertly  from  time 
to  time,  and  many  a  silent  tear  of  which  they  knew  nothing 
fell  on  her  needle. 

On  the  subject  of  his  protracted  weekly  absences  at  the 
State  capital,  the  Honourable  Hilary  was  as  uncommunica 
tive  as  he  would  have  been  had  he  retired  for  those  periods 
to  a  bar-room.  He  often  grunted  and  cleared  his  throat 
and  glanced  at  his  son  when  their  talk  bordered  upon  these 
absences;  and  he  was  even  conscious  of  an  extreme  irrita 
tion  against  himself  as  well  as  Austen  because  of  the 
instinct  that  bade  him  keep  silent.  He  told  himself 
fiercely  that  he  had  nothing  to  be  ashamed  of,  nor  would 
he  have  acknowledged  that  it  was  a  kind  of  shame  that 


THE   HOPPER  163 

bade  him  refrain  even  from  circumstantial  accounts  of 
what  went  on  in  room  Number  Seven  of  the  Pelican.  He 
had  an  idea  that  Austen  knew  and  silently  condemned  ;  and 
how  extremely  maddening  was  this  feeling  to  the  Honour 
able  Hilary  may  well  be  imagined.  All  his  life  long  he 
had  deemed  himself  morally  invulnerable,  and  now  to  be 
judged  and  ethically  found  wanting  by  the  son  of  Sarah 
Austen  was,  at  times,  almost  insupportable.  Were  the 
standards  of  a  long  life  to  be  suddenly  reversed  by  a 
prodigal  son  ? 

To  get  back  to  Austen.  On  St.  Valentine's  Day  of 
that  year  when,  to  tell  the  truth,  he  was  seated  in  his 
office  scribbling  certain  descriptions  of  nature  suggested 
by  the  valentines  in  Mr.  Hayman's  stationery  store,  the 
postman  brought  in  a  letter  from  young  Tom  Gaylord. 
Austen  laughed  as  he  read  it.  "  The  Honourable  Galusha 
Hammer  is  well  named,"  young  Tom  wrote,  "but  the 
conviction  has  been  gaining  ground  with  me  that  a  ham 
mer  is  about  as  much  use  as  a  shovel  would  be  at  the 
present  time.  It  is  not  the  proper  instrument.  But  the 
old  man  "  (it  was  thus  young  Tom  was  wont  to  designate 
his  parent)  "  is  pig-headed  when  he  gets  to  fighting,  and 
won't  listen  to  reason.  If  he  believes  he  can  lick  the 
Northeastern  with  a  Hammer,  he  is  durned  badly  mistaken, 
and  I  told  him  so.  I  have  been  giving  him  sage  advice 
in  little  drops  —  after  meals.  I  tell  him  there  is  only  one 
man  in  the  State  who  has  sense  enough  even  to  shake  the 
Northeastern,  and  that's  you.  He  thinks  this  a  pretty 
good  joke.  Of  course  I  realize  where  your  old  man  is 
planted,  and  that  you  might  have  some  natural  delicacy 
and  wish  to  refrain  from  giving  him  a  jar.  But  come 
down  for  an  hour  and  let  me  talk  to  you,  anyway.  The 
new  statesman  from  Leith  is  cutting  a  wide  swath.  Not 
a  day  passes  but  his  voice  is  heard  roaring  in  the  Forum ; 
he  has  visited  all  the  State  institutions,  dined  and  wined 
the  governor  and  his  staff  and  all  the  ex-governors  he  can 
lay  his  hands  on,  and  he  has  that  hard-headed  and  caus 
tic  journalist,  Mr.  Peter  Pardriff,  of  the  State  Tribune, 
hypnotized.  He  has  some  swells  up  at  his  house  to  hear 


164  MR.   CREWE'S  CAREER 

his  speech  on  national  affairs,  among  them  old  Flint's 
daughter,  who  is  a  ripper  to  look  at,  although  I  never  got 
nearer  to  her  than  across  the  street.  As  you  may  guess, 
it  is  something  of  a  card  for  Crewe  to  have  Flint's 
daughter  here." 

Austen  sat  for  a  long  time  after  reading  this  letter,  idly 
watching  the  snow-clouds  gathering  around  Sawanec. 
Then  he  tore  up  the  paper,  on  which  he  had  been  scribbling, 
into  very  small  bits,  consulted  a  time-table,  and  at  noon,  in 
a  tumult  of  feelings,  he  found  himself  in  a  back  seat  of  the 
express,  bound  for  the  capital. 

Arriving  at  the  station,  amidst  a  hurry  and  bustle  of 
legislators  and  politicians  coming  and  going,  many  of 
whom  nodded  to  him,  he  stood  for  a  minute  in  the  whirl 
ing  snow  reflecting.  Now  that  he  was  here,  where  was 
he  to  stay?  The  idea  of  spending  the  night  at  the  Pelican 
was  repellent  to  him,  and  he  was  hesitating  between  two 
more  modest  hostelries  when  he  was  hailed  by  a  giant  with 
a  flowing  white  beard,  a  weather-beaten  face,  and  a  clear 
eye  that  shone  with  a  steady  and  kindly  light.  It  was 
James  Redbrook,  the  member  from  Mercer. 

"Why,  how  be  you,  Austen. ?"  he  cried,  extending  a 
welcome  hand;  and,  when  Austen  had  told  him  his 
dilemma:  "  Come  right  along  up  to  my  lodgings.  I  live 
at  the  Widow  Peasley's,  and  there's  a  vacant  room  next  to 
mine." 

Austen  accepted  gratefully,  and  as  they  trudged  through 
the  storm  up  the  hill,  he  inquired  how  legislative  matters 
were  progressing.  Whereupon  Mr.  Redbrook  unburdened 
himself. 

"  Say,  I  just  warmed  up  all  over  when  I  see  you,  Austen. 
I'm  so  glad  to  run  across  an  honest  man.  We  ain't  forgot 
in  Mercer  what  you  did  for  Zeb  Meader,  and  how  you 
went  against  your  interests.  And  I  guess  it  ain't  done 
you  any  harm  in  the  State.  As  many  as  thirty  or  forty 
members  have  spoke  to  me  about  it.  And  down  here  I've 
got  so  I  just  can't  hold  in  any  more." 

"  Is  it  as  bad  as  that,  Mr.  Redbrook  ?  "  asked  Austen, 
with  a  serious  glance  at  the  farmer's  face. 


THE   HOPPER  165 

"  It's  so  bad  I  don't  know  how  to  begin,"  said  the  mem 
ber  from  Mercer,  and  paused  suddenly.  "  But  I  don't 
want  to  hurt  your  feelings,  Austen,  seeing  your  father  is 
—  where  he  is." 

"  Go  on,"  said  Austen,  "  I  understand." 

"  Well,"  said  Mr.  Redbrook,  "  it  just  makes  me  tremble 
as  an  American  citizen.  The  railrud  sends  them  slick 
cusses  down  here  that  sit  in  the  front  seats  who  know  all 
this  here  parliamentary  law  and  the  tricks  of  the  trade, 
and  every  time  any  of  us  gets  up  to  speak  our  honest 
minds,  they  have  us  ruled  out  of  order  or  get  the  thing 
laid  on  the  table  until  some  Friday  morning  when  there 
ain't  nobody  here,  and  send  it  along  up  to  the  Senate. 
They  made  that  fat  feller,  Doby,  Speaker,  and  he's  stuffed 
all  the  important  committees  so  that  you  can't  get  an 
honest  measure  considered.  You  can  talk  to  the  com 
mittees  all  you've  a  mind  to,  and  they'll  just  listen  and 
never  do  anything.  There's  five  hundred  in  the  House, 
and  it  ain't  any  more  of  a  Legislature  than  a  camp-meetin' 
is.  What  do  you  suppose  they  done  last  Friday  morning, 
when  there  wahn't  but  twenty  men  at  the  session  ?  We 
had  an  anti-pass  law,  and  all  these  fellers  were  breakin'  it. 
It  forbid  anybody  riding  on  a  pass  except  railroad  presi 
dents,  directors,  express  messengers,  and  persons  in  mis 
fortune,  and  they  stuck  in  these  words, '  and  others  to  whom 
passes  have  been  granted  by  the  proper  officers.''  Ain't  that 
a  disgrace  to  the  State  ?  And  those  twenty  senators 
passed  it  before  we  got  back  on  Tuesday.  You  can't  get 
a  bill  through  that  Legislature  unless  you  go  up  to  the 
Pelican  and  get  permission  of  Hilary  —  " 

Here  Mr.  Redbrook  stopped  abruptly,  and  glanced  con 
tritely  at  his  companion. 

"  I  didn't  mean  to  get  goin'  so,"  he  said,  "  but  some 
times  I  wish  this  American  government'd  never  been 
started." 

u  I  often  feel  that  way  myself,  Mr.  Redbrook,"  said 
Austen. 

"  I  knowed  you  did.  I  guess  I  can  tell  an  honest  man 
when  I  see  one.  It's  treason  to  say  anything  against  this 


166  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

Northeastern  louder  than  a  whisper.  They  want  an 
electric  railrud  bad  up  in  Greenacre,  and  when  some  of  us 
spoke  for  it  and  tried  to  get  the  committee  to  report  it, 
those  cheap  fellers  from  Newcastle  started  such  a  catcall 
we  had  to  set  down." 

By  this  time  they  were  at  the  Widow  Peasley's,  stamp 
ing  the  snow  from  off  their  boots. 

"  How  general  is  this  sentiment  ?  "  Austen  asked,  after 
he  had  set  down  his  bag  in  the  room  he  was  .to  occupy. 

"  Why,"  said  Mr.  Redbrook,  with  convictkAi,  "  there's 

enough  feel  as  I  do  to  turn  that  House  upside  down — if 

C     we  only  had  a  leader.     If  you  was  only  in  there,  Austen." 

"  I'm  afraid  I  shouldn't  ,be  of  much  use,"  Austen 
answered.  "  They'd  have  given  me  a  back  seat,  too." 

The  Widow  Peasley's  was  a  frame  and  gabled  house  of 
Revolutionary  days  with  a  little  terrace  in  front  of  it  and 
a  retaining  wall  built  up  from  the  sidewalk.  Austen,  on 
the  steps,  stood  gazing  across  at  a  square  mansion  with 
a  wide  cornice,  half  hidden  by  elms  and  maples  and  pines. 
It  was  set  far  back  from  the  street,  and  a  driveway  entered 
the  picket-fence  and  swept  a  wide  semicircle  to  the  front 
door  and  back  again.  Before  the  door  was  a  sleigh  of  a 
pattern  new  to  him,  with  a  seat  high  above  the  backs  of 
two  long-bodied,  deep-chested  horses,  their  heads  held  with 
difficulty  by  a  little  footman  with  his  arms  above  him.  At 
that  moment  two  figures  in  furs  emerged  from  the  house. 
The  young  woman  gathered  up  the  reins  and  leaped  lightly 
to  the  box,  the  man  followed;  the  little  groom  touched  his 
fur  helmet  and  scrambled  aboard  as  the  horses  sprang 
forward  to  the  music  of  the  softest  of  bells.  The  sleigh 
swept  around  the  curve,  avoided  by  a  clever  turn  a  snow- 
pile  at  the  entrance,  the  young  woman  raised  her  eyes 
from  the  horses,  stared  at  Austen,  and  bowed.  As  for 
Austen,  he  grew  warm  as  he  took  off  his  hat,  and  he  real 
ized  that  his  hand  was  actually  trembling.  .The  sleigh  flew 
on  up  the  hill,  but  she  turned  once  more  to  look  behind 
her,  and  he  still  had  his  hat  in  his  hand,  the  snowflakes 
falling  on  his  bared  head.  Then  he  was  aware  that  James 
Redbrook  was  gazing  at  him  curiously. 


THE   HOPPER  167 

"  That's  Flint's  daughter,  ain't  it?"  inquired  the  member 
from  Mercer.  "Didn't  callate  you'd  know  her." 

Austen  flushed.  He  felt  exceedingly  foolish,  but  an 
answer  came  to  him. 

"  I  met  her  in  the  hospital.  She  used  to  go  there  to  see 
Zeb  Header." 

"  That's  so,"  said  Mr.  Redbrook;  "  Zeb  told  me  about  it, 
and  she  used  to  come  to  Mercer  to  see  him  after  he  got 
out.  She  ain't  much  like  the  old  man,  I  callate." 

"  I  don't  think  she  is,"  said  Austen. 

"  I  don't  know  what  she's  stayin'  with  that  feller  Crewe 
for,"  the  farmer  remarked ;  "  of  all  the  etarnal  darn  idiots 
—  why,  Brush  Bascom  and  that  Botcher  and  the  rest  of 
'em  are  trailin'  him  along  and  usin'  him  for  the  best  thing 
that  ever  came  down  here.  He  sets  up  to  be  a  practical  man, 
and  don't  know  as  much  as  some  of  us  hayseeds  in  the  back 
seats.  Where  be  you  goin'?" 

"  I  was  going  to  the  Pelican." 

"  Well,  I've  got  a  committee  meetin'  of  Agriculture," 
said  Mr.  Redbrook.  "  Could  you  be  up  here  at  Mis' 
Peasley's  about  eight  to-night  ?  " 

"Why,  yes,"  Austen  replied,  "  if  you  want  to  see  me." 

"  I  do  want  to  see  you,"  said  Mr.  Redbrook,  significantly, 
and  waved  a  farewell. 

Austen  took  his  way  slowly  across  the  state-house  park, 
threading  among  the  groups  between  the  snowbanks  tow 
ards  the  wide  fagade  of  the  Pelican  Hotel.  Presently  he 
paused,  and  then  with  a  sudden  determination  crossed  the 
park  diagonally  into  Main  Street,  walking  rapidly  south 
ward  and  scrutinizing  the  buildings  on  either  side  until 
at  length  these  began  to  grow  wide  apart,  and  he  spied 
a  florist's  sign  with  a  greenhouse  behind  it.  He  halted 
again,  irresolutely,  in  front  of  it,  flung  open  the  door, 
and  entered  a  boxlike  office  filled  with  the  heated  scents 
of  flowers.  A  little  man  eyed  him  with  an  obsequious 
interest  which  he  must  have  accorded  to  other  young  men 
on  similar  errands.  Austen  may  be  spared  a  repetition  of 
the  very  painful  conversation  that  ensued  ;  suffice  it  to  say 
that,  after  mature  deliberation,  violets  were  chosen.  He 


168  MR.    CREWE'S   CAREER 

had  a  notion — not  analyzed — that  she  would  prefer  vio 
lets  to  roses.  The  information  that  the  flowers  were  for 
the  daughter  of  the  president  of  the  Northeastern  Rail 
roads  caused  a  visible  quickening  of  the  little  florist's 
regard,  an  attitude  which  aroused  a  corresponding  disgust 
and  depression  in  Austen. 

"Oh,  yes,"  said  the  florist,  "she's  up  at  Crewe's."  He 
glanced  at  Austen  apologetically.  "  Excuse  me,"  he  said, 
"  I  ought  to  know  you.  Have  you  a  card?" 

"No,"  said  Austen,  with  emphasis. 

"And  what  name,  please?" 

"  No  name,"  said  the  donor,  now  heartily  repenting  of 
his  rashness,  and  slamming  the  glass  door  in  a  manner 
that  made  the  panes  rattle  behind  him. 

As  he  stood  hesitating  on  the  curb  of  the  crossing,  he 
began  to  wish  that  he  had  not  left  Ripton. 

"  Hello,  Austen,"  said  a  voice,  which  he  recognized  as  the 
Honourable  Brush  Bascom's,  "  didn't  know  you  ever  came 
down  here  in  session  time." 

"  What  are  you  doing  down  here,  Brush?"  Austen  asked. 

Mr.  Bascom  grinned  in  appreciation  of  this  pleasantry. 

"I  came  for  my  health,"  he  said ;  "I  prefer  it  to  Florida." 

"I've  heard  that  it  agrees  with  some  people,"  said 
Austen. 

Mr.  Bascom  grinned  again. 

"  Just  arrived?"  he  inquired. 

"Just,"  said  Austen. 

"I  thought  you'd  get  here  sooner  or  later,"  said  Mr. 
Bascom.  "  Some  folks  try  stayin'  away,  but  it  ain't  much 
use.  You'll  find  the  Honourable  Hilary  doing  business  at 
the  same  old  stand,  next  to  the  governor,  in  Number 
Seven  up  there."  And  Mr.  Bascom  pointed  to  the  well- 
known  window  on  the  second  floor. 

"  Thanks,  Brush,"  said  Austen,  indifferently.  "  To  tell 
the  truth,  I  came  down  to  hear  that  promising  protege  of 
yours  speak  on  national  affairs.  I  understand  you're 
pushing  his  bills  along." 

Mr.  Bascom,  with  great  deliberation,  shut  one  of  his 
little  eyes. 


THE   HOPPER  169 

"  So  long,"  he  said,  "  come  and  see  me  when  you  get 
time." 

Austen  went  slowly  down  the  street  and  entered  the 
smoke-clouded  lobby  of  the  Pelican.  He  was  a  man  to 
draw  attention,  and  he  was  stared  at  by  many  politicians 
there  and  spoken  to  by  some  before  he  reached  the  stairs. 
Mounting,  he  found  the  door  with  the  numeral  7,  and 
knocked.  The  medley  of  voices  within  ceased;  there  were 
sounds  of  rattling  papers,  and  of  closing  of  folding  doors. 
The  key  turned  in  the  lock,  and  State  Senator  Nathaniel 
Billings  appeared  in  the  doorway,  with  a  look  of  polite 
inquiry  on  his  convivial  face.  This  expression,  when  he 
saw  Austen,  changed  to  something  like  consternation. 

"  Why,  hello,  hello,"  said  the  senator.  "  Come  in,  come 
in.  The  Honourable  Hilary's  here.  When'd  you  come 
down  ?  " 

"  Hello,  Nat,"  said  Austen,  and  went  in. 

The  Honourable  Hilary  sat  in  his  usual  arm-chair;  Mr. 
Botcher  severely  strained  the  tensile  strength  of  the  bed- 
springs;  Mr.  Hamilton  Tooting  stood  before  the  still  wav 
ing  portieres  in  front  of  the  folding  doors;  and  Mr. 
Manning,  the  division  superintendent,  sat  pensively,  with 
his  pen  in  his  mouth,  before  the  marble-topped  table  from 
which  everything  had  been  removed  but  a  Bible.  Two 
gentlemen,  whom  Austen  recognized  as  colleagues  of  Mr. 
Billings  in  the  State  Senate,  stood  together  in  a  window, 
pointing  out  things  of  interest  in  the  street.  Austen 
walked  up  to  his  father  and  laid  a  hand  on  his  shoulder. 

44  How  are  you,  Judge  ?"  he  said.  "  I  only  came  in  to  pay 
my  respects.  I  hope  I  have  not  disturbed  any  — entertain 
ment  going  on  here,"  he  added,  glancing  in  turn  at  the 
thoughtful  occupants  of  the  room,  and  then  at  the  curtains 
which  hid  the  folding  doors  to  the  apartment  of  his 
Excellency. 

"  Why,  no,"  answered  the  Honourable  Hilary,  his  cus 
tomary  grunt  being  the  only  indication  of  surprise  on  his 
part;  "didn't  know  you  were  coming  down." 

44 1  didn't  know  it  myself  until  this  morning,"  said 
Austen. 


170  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

"  Legislative  case,  I  suppose,"  remarked  the  Honourable 
Jacob  Botcher,  in  his  deep  voice. 

"No,  merely  a  pleasure  trip,  Mr.  Botcher." 

The  Honourable  Jacob  rubbed  his  throat,  the  two  State 
senators  in  the  window  giggled,  and  Mr.  Hamilton  Tooting 
laughed. 

"  I  thought  you  took  to  the  mountains  in  such  cases, 
.sir,"  said  Mr.  Botcher. 

"I  came  for  intellectual  pleasure  this  time,"  said 
Austen.  "  I  understand  that  Mr.  Crewe  is  to  deliver  an 
epoch-making  speech  on  the  national  situation  to-morrow." 

This  was  too  much  even  for  the  gravity  of  Mr.  Manning; 
Mr.  Tooting  and  Mr.  Billings  and  his  two  colleagues 
roared,  though  the  Honourable  Jacob's  laugh  was  not  so 
spontaneous. 

"Aust,"  said  Mr.  Tooting,  admiringly,  "  you're  all 
right." 

"  Well,  Judge,"  said  Austen,  patting  his  father's  shoul 
der  again,  "  I'm  glad  to  see  you  so  comfortably  fixed. 
Good-by,  and  give  my  regards  to  the  governor.  I'm 
sorry  to  have  missed  him,"  he  added,  glancing  at  the  por 
tieres  that  hid  the  folding  doors. 

"  Are  you  stopping  here  ? "  asked  the  Honourable 
Hilary. 

"  No,  I  met  Mr.  Redbrook  of  Mercer,  and  he  took  me 
up  to  his  lodgings.  If  I  can  do  anything  for  you,  a  mes 
sage  will  reach  me  there." 

"  Humph,"  said  the  Honourable  Hilary,  while  the 
others  exchanged  significant  glances. 

Austen  had  not  gone  half  the  length  of  the  hall  when 
he  was  overtaken  by  Mr.  Tooting. 

"  Say,  Aust,  what's  up  between  you  and  Redbrook  ?  " 
he  asked. 

"  Nothing.     Why  ?  "  Austen  asked,  stopping  abruptly. 

"  Well,  I  suppose  you  know  there's  an  anti-railroad 
feeling  growing  in  that  House,  and  that  Redbrook  has 
more  influence  with  the  farmers  than  any  other  man." 

"  I  didn't  know  anything  about  Mr.  Redbrook's  in 
fluence,"  said  Austen. 


THE   HOPPER  171 

Mr.  Tooting  looked  unconvinced. 

u  Say,  Aust,  if  anything's  in  the  wind,  I  wish  you'd  let 
me  know.  I'll  keep  it  quiet." 

"  I  think  I  shall  be  safe  in  promising  that,  Ham,"  said 
Austen.  "  When  there's  anything  in  the  wind,  you  gen 
erally  find  it  out  first." 

"  There's  trouble  coming  for  the  railroad,"  said  Mr. 
Tooting.  "  I  can  see  that.  And  I  guess  you  saw  it  be 
fore  I  did." 

"  They  say  a  ship's  about  to  sink  when  the  rats  begin 
to  leave  it,"  said  Austen. 

Although  Austen  spoke  smilingly,  Mr.  Tooting  looked 
pained. 

"  There's  no  chance  for  young  men  in  that  system,"  he 
said. 

"  Young  men  write  the  noble  parts  of  the  governor's 
inaugurals,"  said  Austen. 

"  Yes,"  said  Mr.  Tooting,  bitterly,  "  but  you  never  get 
to  be  governor  and  read  'em.  You've  got  to  be  a  4  come 
on '  with  thirty  thousand  dollars  to  be  a  Northeastern 
governor  and  live  next  door  to  the  Honourable  Hilary  in 
the  Pelican.  Well,  so  long,  Aust.  If  anything's  up, 
give  me  the  tip,  that's  all  I  ask." 

Reflecting  on  the  singular  character  of  Mr.  Tooting, 
Austen  sought  the  Gaylords'  headquarters,  and  found 
them  at  the  furthermost  end  of  the  building  from  the 
Railroad  Room.  The  door  was  opened  by  young  Tom 
himself,  whose  face  became  wreathed  in  smiles  when  he 
saw  who  the  visitor  was. 

"  It's  Austen!  "  he  cried.  "  I  thought  you'd  come  down 
when  you  .got  that  appeal  of  mine." 

Austen  did  not  admit  the  self-sacrifice  as  he  shook  Tom's 
hand ;  but  remembered,  singularly  enough,  the  closing 
sentences  of  Tom's  letter  —  which  had  nothing  whatever 
to  do  with  the  Gay  lord  bill. 

At  this  moment  a  commotion  arose  within  the  room, 
and  a  high,  tremulous,  but  singularly  fierce  and  compel 
ling  voice  was  heard  crying  out :  — 

"  Get  out !     Get  out,  d — n  you,  all  of  you,  and  don't 


172  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

come  back  until  you've  got  some  notion  of  what  you're 
a-goin'  to  do.  Get  out,  I  say !  " 

These  last  words  were  pronounced  with  such  extraordi 
nary  vigour  that  four  gentlemen  seemed  to  be  physically 
impelled  from  the  room.  Three  of  them  Austen  recognized 
as  dismissed  and  disgruntled  soldiers  from  the  lobby  army 
of  the  Northeastern ;  the  fourth  was  the  Honourable  Ga- 
lusha  Hammer,  whose  mode  of  progress  might  be  described 
as  "  stalking,"  and  whose  lips  were  forming  the  word 
"intolerable."  In  the  corner  old  Tom  himself  could  be 
seen,  a  wizened  figure  of  wrath. 

"  Who's  that?"  he  demanded  of  his  son,  "another  d — d 
fool ?  " 

"  No,"  replied  young  Tom,  "  it's  Austen  Vane." 

"  What's  he  doin'  here  ?  "  old  Tom  demanded,  with  a 
profane  qualification  as  to  the  region.  But  young  Tom 
seemed  to  be  the  only  being  capable  of  serenity  amongst 
the  flames  that  played  around  him. 

"  I  sent  for  him  because  he's  got  more  sense  than  Ga- 
lusha  and  all  the  rest  of  'em  put  together,"  he  said. 

"  I  guess  that's  so,"  old  Tom  agreed  unexpectedly, 
"  but  it  ain't  say  in'  much.  Bring  him  in —  bring  him  in, 
and  lock  the  door." 

In  obedience  to  these  summons,  and  a  pull  from  young 
Tom,  Austen  entered  and  sat  down. 

"  You've  read  the  Pingsquit  bill  ?  "  old  Tom  demanded. 

"  Yes,"  said  Austen. 

"  Just  because  you  won  a  suit  against  the  Northeastern, 
and  nearly  killed  a  man  out  West,  Tom  seems  to  think 
you  can  do  anything.  He  wouldn't  give  me  any  peace 
until  I  let  him  send  for  you,"  Mr.  Gaylord  remarked  testily. 
"  Now  you're  down  here,  what  have  you  got  to  propose  ?  " 

"I  didn't  come  here  to  propose  anything,  Mr.  Gaylord," 
said  Austen. 

"  What  !  "  cried  Mr.  Gaylord,  with  one  of  his  customary 
and  forceful  exclamations.  "  What'd  you  come  down  for  ?  " 

"  I've  been  asking  myself  that  question  ever  since  I 
came,  Mr.  Gaylord,"  said  Austen,  "  and  I  haven't  yet 
arrived  at  any  conclusion." 


THE   HOPPER  173 

Young  Tom  looked  at  his  friend  and  laughed,  and  Mr. 
Gaylord,  who  at  first  gave  every  indication  of  being 
about  to  explode  with  anger,  suddenly  emitted  a  dry 
cackle. 

"  You  ain't  a  d — n  fool,  anyway,"  he  declared. 

"  I'm  beginning  to  think  I  am,"  said  Austen. 

"  Then  you've  got  sense  enough  to  know  it,"  retorted 
old  Tom.  "  Most  of  'em  haven't."  And  his  glance,  as  it 
fell  upon  the  younger  man,  was  almost  approving.  Young 
Tom's  was  distinctly  so. 

"  I  told  you  Austen  was  the  only  lawyer  who'd  talk 
common  sense  to  you,"  he  said. 

"  I  haven't  heard  much  of  it  yet,"  said  old  Tom. 

"  Perhaps  I  ought  to  tell  you,  Mr.  Gaylord,"  said  Austen, 
smiling  a  little,  "  that  I  didn't  come  down  in  any  legal 
capacity.  That's  only  one  of  Tom's  jokes." 

"  Then  what  in  h — 1  did  you  bring  him  in  here  for  ?  " 
demanded  old  Tom  of  his  son. 

"  Just  for  a  quiet  little  powwow,"  said  young  Tom,  "  to 
make  you  laugh.  He's  made  you  laugh  before." 

"  I  don't  want  to  laugh,"  said  old  Tom,  pettishly. 
Nevertheless,  he  seemed  to  be  visibly  cooling.  "  If  you 
ain't  in  here  to  make  money,"  he  added  to  Austen,  "  I  don't 
care  how  long  you  stay." 

"Say,  Austen,"  said  young  Tom,  "do  you  remember 
the  time  we  covered  the  old  man  with  shavings  at  the 
mills  in  Avalon,  and  how  he  chased  us  with  a  two-by-four 
scantling  ?  " 

"  I'd  made  pulp  out'n  you  if  I'd  got  you,"  remarked  Mr. 
Gaylord,  with  a  reminiscent  chuckle  that  was  almost 
pleasant.  "But  you  were  always  a  goldurned  smart  boy, 
Austen,  and  you've  done  well  with  them  little  suits."  He 
gazed  at  Austen  a  moment  with  his  small,  filmy-blue  eye. 
"  I  don't  know  but  what  you  might  take  hold  here  and 
make  it  hot  for  those  d — d  rascals  in  the  Northeastern, 
after  all.  You  couldn't  botch  it  worse'n  Hammer  has,  and 
you  might  do  some  good.  I  said  I'd  make  'em  dance,  and 
by  G — d,  I'll  do  it,  if  I  have  to  pay  that  feller  Levering 
in  New  York,  and  it  takes  the  rest  of  my  life.  Look  the 


174  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

situation  over,  and  come  back  to-morrow  and  tell  me  what 
you  think  of  it." 

"  I  can  tell  you  what  I  think  of  it  now,  Mr.  Gaylord," 
said  Austen. 

"  What's  that  ?  "  old  Tom  demanded  sharply. 

"  That  you'll  never  get  the  bill  passed,  this  session  or 
next,  by  lobbying." 

For  the  moment  the  elder  Mr.  Gaylord  was  speechless, 
but  young  Tom  Gaylord  clapped  his "  hand  heartily  on  his 
friend's  shoulder. 

"That's  the  reason  I  wanted  to  get  you  down  here, 
Austen,"  he  cried;  "  that's  what  I've  been  telling  the  old 
man  all  along  —  perhaps  he'll  believe  you." 

"  Then  you  won't  take  hold  ?  "  said  Mr.  Gaylord,  his 
voice  trembling  on  the  edge  of  another  spasm.  "  You 
refuse  business  ?  " 

"  I  refuse  that  kind  of  business,  Mr.  Gaylord,"  Austen 
answered  quietly,  though  there  was  a  certain  note  in  his 
voice  that  young  Tom  knew  well,  and  which  actually 
averted  the  imminent  explosion  from  Mr.  Gaylord,  whose 
eyes  glared  and  watered.  "  But  aside  from  that,  you  must 
know  that  the  Republican  party  leaders  in  this  State  are 
the  heads  of  the  lobby  of  the  Northeastern  Railroads." 

"  I  guess  I  know  about  Number  Seven  as  well  as  you 
do,"  old  Tom  interjected. 

Austen's  eye  flashed. 

"Now  hold  on,  father,"  said  young  Tom,  "that's  no 
way  to  talk  to  Austen." 

"  Knowing  Number  Seven,"  Austen  continued,  "you 
probably  realize  that  the  political  and  business  future  of 
nearly  every  one  of  the  twenty  State  senators  depends  upon 
the  favour  of  the  Northeastern  Railroads." 

"  I  know  that  the  d — d  fools  won't  look  at  money," 
said  Mr.  Gaylord  ;  "  Hammer's  tried  'em." 

"  I  told  you  that  before  you  started  in,"  young  Tom 
remarked,  "but  when  you  get  mad,  you  won't  listen  to 
sense.  And  then  there's  the  Honourable  Asa  Gray,  who 
wants  to  represent  the  Northeastern  some  clay  in  the 
United  States  Senate." 


THE   HOPPER  175 

"  The  bill  ought  to  pass,"  shrieked  old  Tom ;  "  it's 
a  d — d  outrage.  There's  no  reason  why  I  shouldn't  be 
allowed  to  build  a  railroad  if  I've  got  the  money  to  do  it. 
What  in  blazes  are  we  comiii'  to  in  this  country  if  we 
can't  git  competition  ?  If  Flint  stops  that  bill,  I'll  buy  a 
newspaper  and  go  to  the  people  with  the  issue  and  throw 
his  d — d  monopoly  into  bankruptcy." 

"  It's  all  very  well  to  talk  about  competition  and  monop 
olies  and  lobbies,"  said  young  Tom,  "  but  how  about  the 
Gaylord  Lumber  Company?  How  about  the  times  you 
used  the  lobby,  with  Flint's  permission  ?  This  kind  of 
virtuous  talk  is  beautiful  to  listen  to  when  you  and  Flint 
get  into  a  row." 

At  this  remark  of  his  son's,  the  intermittent  geyser  of 
old  Tom's  wrath  spouted  up  again  with  scalding  steam, 
and  in  a  manner  utterly  impossible  to.  reproduce  upon 
paper.  Young  Tom  waited  patiently  for  the  exhibition  to 
cease,  which  it  did  at  length  in  a  coughing  fit  of  ^sheer 
exhaustion  that  left  his  father  speechless,  if  not  expres 
sionless,  pointing  a  lean  and  trembling  finger  in  the  direc 
tion  of  a  valise  on  the  floor. 

"  You'll  go  off  in  a  spell  of  that  kind  some  day,"  said 
young  Tom,  opening  the  valise  and  extracting  a  bottle. 
Uncorking  it,  he  pressed  it  to  his  father's  lips,  and  with 
his  own  pocket-handkerchief  (old  Tom  not  possessing 
such  an  article)  wiped  the  perspiration  from  Mr.  Gay- 
lord's  brow  and  the  drops  from  his  shabby  black  coat. 
"There's  no  use  gettin'  mad  at  Austen.  He's  dead  right 
—  you  can't  lobby  this  thing  through,  and  you  knew  it 
before  you  started.  If  you  hadn't  lost  your  temper,  you 
wouldn't  have  tried." 

"We'll  see,  by  G — d,  we'll  see,"  said  the  indomitable 
old  Tom,  when  he  got  his  breath.  "  You  young  men 
think  you  know  a  sight,  but  you  haven't  got  the  stuff  in 
you  we  old  fellers  have.  Where  would  I  be  if  it  wasn't 
for  fightin'  ?  You  mark  my  w^ords,  before  this  session's 
ended  I'll  scare  h — 1  out  of  Flint — see  if  I  don't." 

Young  Tom  winked  at  his  friend. 

"  Let's  go  down  to  supper,"  he  said. 


176  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

The  dining  room  of  the  Pelican  Hotel  during  a  mid 
week  of  a  busy  session  was  a  scene  or  bustle  and  confusion 
not  likely  to  be  forgotten.  Every  seat  was  taken,  and 
gentlemen  waited  their  turn  in  the  marble-flagged  ro 
tunda  who  had  not  the  honour  of  being  known  to  Mr. 
Giles,  the  head  waiter.  If  Mr.  Hamilton  Tooting  were 
present,  and  recognized  you,  he  would  take  great  pleasure 
in  pointing  out  the  celebrities,  and  especially  that  table 
over  which  the  Honourable  Hilary  Vane  presided,  with  the 
pretty,  red-cheeked  waitress  hovering  around  it.  At  the 
Honourable  Hilary's  right  hand  was  the  division  super 
intendent,  and  at  his  left,  Mr.  Speaker  Doby  —  a  most 
convenient  and  congenial  arrangement  ;  farther  down  the 
board  were  State  Senator  Nat  Billings,  Mr.  Ridout  (when 
he  did  not  sup  at  home),  the  Honourables  Brush  Bascom 
and  Elisha  Jane,  and  the  Honourable  Jacob  Botcher  made  a 
proper  ballast  for  the  foot.  This  table  was  known  as  the 
Railroad  Table,  and  it  was  very  difficult,  at  any  distance 
away  from  it,  to  hear  what  was  said,  except  when  the 
Honourable  Jacob  Botcher  made  a  joke.  Next  in  impor 
tance  and  situation  was  the  Governor's  Table  —  now  oc 
cupied  by  the  Honourable  Asa  Gray.  Mr.  Tooting's 
description  would  not  have  stopped  here. 

Sensations  are  common  in  the  Pelican  Hotel,  but  when 
Austen  Vane  walked  in  that  evening  between  the  Gay- 
lords,  father  and  son,  many  a  hungry  guest  laid  down  his 
knife  and  fork  and  stared.  Was  the  younger  Vane 
(known  to  be  anti-railroad)  to  take  up  the  Gaylords'  war 
against  his  own  father?  All  the  indications  were  that 
way,  and  a  rumour  flew  from  table  to  table  —  leaping 
space,  as  rumours  will — that  the  Gaylords  had  sent  to 
Ripton  for  Austen.  There  was  but  one  table  in  the  room 
the  occupants  of  which  appeared  not  to  take  any  interest 
in  the  event,  or  even  to  grasp  that  an  event  had  occurred. 
The  Railroad  Table  was  oblivious. 

After  supper  Mr.  Tooting  found  Austen  in  the  rotunda, 
and  drew  him  mysteriously  aside. 

"  Say,  Aust,  the  Honourable  Hilary  wants  to  see  you 
to-night,"  he  whispered. 


THE   HOPPER  177 

"  Did  he  send  you  with  the  message  ? "  Austen  de 
manded. 

"That's  right,"  said  Mr.  Tooting.  "I  guess  you  know 
what's  up." 

Austen  did  not  answer.  At  the  foot  of  the  stairway 
was  the  tall  form  of  Hilary  Vane  himself,  and  Austen 
crossed  the  rotunda. 

"  Do  you  want  to  see  me,  Judge  ?  "  he  asked. 

The  Honourable  Hilary  faced  about  quickly. 

"Yes,  if  you've  got  any  spare  time." 

"  I'll  go  to  your  room  at  half-past  nine  to-night,  if  that's 
convenient." 

"All  right,"  said  the  Honourable  Hilary,  starting  up 
the  stairs. 

Austen  turned,  and  found  Mr.  Hamilton  Tooting  at  his 
elbow. 


CHAPTER  XII 

MR.  REDBROOK'S  PARTY 

THE  storm  was  over,  and  the  bare  trees,  when  the 
moon  shone  between  the  hurrying  clouds,  cast  lacelike 
shadows  on  the  white  velvet  surface  of  the  snow  as 
Austen  forged  his  way  up  the  hill  to  the  Widow  Peas- 
ley's  in  keeping  with  his  promise  to  Mr.  Redbrook. 
Across  the  street  he  paused  outside  the  picket-fence  to 
gaze  at  the  yellow  bars  of  light  between  the  slats  of  the 
windows  of  the  Duncan  house.  It  was  hard  to  realize 
that  she  was  there,  within  a  stone's  throw  of  where  he 
was  to  sleep;  but  the  strange,  half-startled  expression 
in  her  eyes  that  afternoon  and  the  smile  —  which  had 
in  it  a  curious  quality  he  could  not  analyze  —  were  so 
vivid  in  his  consciousness  as  to  give  him  pain.  The  in 
cident,  as  he  stood  there  ankle-deep  in  the  snow,  seemed 
to  him  another  inexplicable  and  uselessly  cruel  caprice 
of  fate. 

As  he  pictured  her  in  the  dining  room  behind  Mr. 
Crewe's  silver  and  cut  glass  and  flowers,  it  was  un 
doubtedly  natural  that  he  should  wonder  whether  she 
were  thinking  of  him  in  the  Widow  Peasley's  lamp-lit 
cottage,  and  he  smiled  at  the  contrast.  After  all,  it 
was  the  contrast  between  his  life  and  hers.  As  an 
American  of  good  antecedents  and  education,  with  a 
Western  experience  thrown  in,  social  gulfs,  although 
awkward,  might  be  crossed  in  spite  of  opposition  from 
ladies  like  the  Rose  of  Sharon,  —  who  had  crossed  them. 
Nevertheless,  the  life  which  Victoria  led  seemingly  ac 
centuated —  to  a  man  standing  behind  a  picket-fence 
in  the  snow  —  the  voids  between. 

A  stamping  of  feet  in  the  Widow  Peasley's  vestibule 

178 


MR.   REDBROOK'S   PARTY  179 

awoke  in  him  that  sense  of  the  ridiculous  which  was 
never  far  from  the  surface,  and  he  made  his  way  thither 
in  mingled  amusement  and  pain.  What  happened  there 
is  of  interest,  but  may  be  briefly  chronicled.  Austen 
was  surprised,  on  entering,  to  find  Mrs.  Peasley's  par 
lour  filled  with  men  ;  and  a  single  glance  at  their  faces 
in  the  lamplight  assured  him  that  they  were  of  a  type 
which  he  understood  —  countrymen  of  that  rugged  New 
England  stock  to  which  he  himself  belonged,  whose 
sons  for  generations  had  made  lawyers  and  statesmen 
and  soldiers  for  the  State  and  nation.  Some  were  talk 
ing  in  low  voices,  and  others  sat  silent  on  the  chairs 
and  sofa,  not  awkwardly  or  uncomfortably,  but  with  a 
characteristic  self-possession  and  repose.  Mr.  Redbrook, 
towering  in  front  of  the  stove,  came  forward. 

"  Here  you  be,"  he  said,  taking  Austen's  hand  warmly 
and  a  little  ceremoniously;  "I  asked  'em  here  to  meet  ye." 

"  To  meet  me  !  "  Austen  repeated. 

"  Wanted  they  should  know  you,"  said  Mr.  Redbrook. 
"They've  all  heard  of  you  and  what  you  did  for  Zeb." 

Austen  flushed.  He  was  aware  that  he  was  undergo 
ing  a  cool  and  critical  examination  by  those  present, 
and  that  they  were  men  who  used  all  their  faculties  in 
making  up  their  minds. 

"  I'm  very  glad  to  meet  any  friends  of  yours,  Mr.  Red- 
brook,"  he  said.  "What  I  did  for  Meader  isn't  worth 
mentioning.  It  was  an  absolutely  simple  case." 

"  'Twahn't  so  much  what  ye  did  as  how  ye  did  it,"  said 
Mr.  Redbrook.  "  It's  kind  of  rare  in  these  days,"  he 
added,  with  the  manner  of  commenting  to  himself  on  the 
circumstance,  "  to  find  a  young  lawyer  with  brains  that 
won't  sell  'em  to  the  railrud.  That's  what  appeals  to 
me,  and  to  some  other  folks  I  know  —  especially  when  we 
take  into  account  the  situation  you  was  in  and  the 
chances  you  had." 

Austen's  silence  under  this  compliment  seemed  to  cre 
ate  an  indefinable  though  favourable  impression,  and  the 
member  from  Mercer  permitted  himself  to  smile. 

"These  men  are  all  friends  of  mine,  and  members  of 


180  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

the  House,"  he  said,  "and  there's  more  would  have  come 
if  they'd  had  a  longer  notice.  Allow  me  to  make  you 
acquainted  with  Mr.  Widgeon  of  Hull." 

"  We  kind  of  wanted  to  look  you  over,"  said  Mr.  Wid 
geon,  suiting  the  action  to  the  word.  "  That's  natural, 
ain't  it  ?  " 

"  Kind  of  size  you  up,"  added  Mr.  Jarley  of  Wye, 
raising  his  eyes.  "  Callate  you're  sizable  enough." 

"  Wish  you  was  in  the  House,"  remarked  Mr.  Adams 
of  Barrett.  "  None  of  us  is  much  on  talk,  but  if  we  had 
you,  I  guess  we  could  lay  things  wide  open." 

"  If  you  was  thar,  and  give  it  to  'em  as  hot  as  you  did 
when  you  was  talkin'  for  Zeb,  them  skunks  in  the  front 
seats  wouldn't  know  whether  they  was  afoot  or  hoss- 
back,"  declared  Mr.  Williams  of  Devon,  a  town  adjoin 
ing  Mercer. 

"  I  used  to  think  railrud  gov'ment  wahn't  so  bad  until 
I  come  to  the  House  this  time,"  remarked  a  stocky  mem 
ber  from  Oxford  ;  "  it's  sheer  waste  of  money  for  the  State 
to  pay  a  Legislature.  They  might  as  well  run  things  from 
the  New  York  office  —  you  know  that." 

"  We  might  as  well  wear  so  many  Northeastern  uni 
forms  with  brass  buttons,"  a  sinewy  hill  farmer  from  Lee 
put  in.  He  had  a  lean  face  that  did  not  move  a  muscle, 
but  a  humorous  gray  eye  that  twinkled. 

In  the  meantime  Mr.  Redbrook  looked  on  with  an  ex 
pression  of  approval  which  was  (to  Austen)  distinctly 
pleasant,  but  more  or  less  mystifying. 

"  I  guess  you  ain't  disappointed  'em  much,"  he  declared, 
when  the  round  was  ended ;  "  most  of  'em  knew  me 
well  enough  to  understand  that  cattle  arid  live  stock  in 
general,  includin'  humans,  is  about  as  I  represent  'em  to 
be." 

"  We  have  some  confidence  in  your  judgment,  Brother 
Redbrook,"  answered  Mr.  Terry  of  Lee,  uand  now  we've 
looked  over  the  goods,  it  ain't  set  back  any,  I  callate." 

This  observation,  which  seemed  to  meet  with  a  general 
assent,  was  to  Austen  more  mystifying  than  ever.  He 
laughed. 


MR.   REDBROOK'S  PARTY  181 

"  Gentlemen,"  he  said,  "  I  feel  as  though  some  expression 
of  thanks  were  due  you  for  this  kind  and  most  unexpected 
reception."  Here  a  sudden  seriousness  came  into  his 
eyes  which  served,  somehow,  only  to  enhance  his  charm 
of  manner,  and  a  certain  determined  ring  into  his  voice. 
"  You  have  all  referred  to  a  condition  of  affairs,"  he 
added,  "about  which  I  have  thought  a  great  deal,  and 
which  I  deplore  as  deeply  as  you  clo.  There  is  no  doubt 
that  the  Northeastern  Railroads  have  seized  the  govern 
ment  of  this  State  for  three  main  reasons:  to  throttle 
competition;  to  control  our  railroad  commission  in  order 
that  we  may  not  get  the  service  and  safety  to  which  we 
are  entitled,  —  so  increasing  dividends  ;  and  to  make  and 
maintain  laws  which  enable  them  to  bribe  with  passes,  to 
pay  less  taxes  than  they  should,  and  to  manipulate  political 
machinery." 

"  That's  right,"  said  Mr.  Jarley  of  Wye,  with  a  decided 
emphasis. 

"  That's  the  kind  of  talk  I  like  to  hear,"  exclaimed  Mr. 
Terry. 

"  And  nobody's  had  the  gumption  to  fight  'em,"  said 
Mr.  Widgeon. 

"  It  looks,"  said  Austen,  "  as  though  it  must  come  to  a 
fight  in  the  end.  I  do  not  think  they  will  listen  to  reason. 
I  mean,"  he  added,  with  a  flash  of  humour,  "  that  they 
will  listen  to  it,  but  not  act  upon  it.  Gentlemen,  I  regret 
to  have  to  say,  for  obvious  reasons,  something  which  you 
all  know,  that  my  father  is  at  the  head  of  the  Northeastern 
machine,  which  is  the  Republican  party  organization." 

There  was  a  silence. 

"  You  went  again'  him,  and  we  honour  you  for  it,  Aus 
ten,"  said  Mr.  Redbrook,  at  length. 

"  I  want  to  say,"  Austen  continued,  "  that  I  have  tried 
to  look  at  things  as  Mr.  Vane  sees  them,  and  that  I  have 
a  good  deal  of  sympathy  for  his  point  of  view.  Conditions 
as  they  exist  are  the  result  of  an  evolution  for  which  no 
one  man  is  responsible.  That  does  not  alter  the  fact  that 
the  conditions  are  wrong.  But  the  railroads,  before  they 
consolidated,  found  the  political  boss  in  power,  and  had  to 


182  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

pay  him  for  favours.  The  citizen  was  the  culprit  to  start 
with,  just  as  he  is  the  culprit  now,  because  he  does  not 
take  sufficient  interest  in  his  government  to  make  it  honest. 
We  mustn't  blame  the  railroads  too  severely,  when  they 
grew  strong  enough,  for  substituting  their  own  political 
army  to  avoid  being  blackmailed.  Long  immunity  has  re- 
enforced  them  in  the  belief  that  they  have  but  one  duty  — 
to  pay  dividends.  I  am  afraid,"  he  added,  "  that  they 
will  have  to  be  enlightened  somewhat  as  Pharaoh  was 
enlightened." 

"  Well,  that's  sense,  too,"  said  Mr.  Widgeon;  "  I  guess 
you're  the  man  to  enlighten  'em." 

"  Moderate  talk  appeals  to  me,"  declared  Mr.  Jarley. 

"  And  when  that  fails,"  said  Mr.  Terry,  "  hard,  tellin' 
blows." 

"  Don't  lose  track  of  the  fact  that  we've  got  our  eye  on 
you,"  said  Mr.  Emerson  of  Oxford,  who  had  a  blacksmith's 
grip,  and  came  back  to  renew  it  after  he  had  put  on  his 
overshoes.  He  was  the  last  to  linger,  and  when  the  door 
had  closed  on  him  Austen  turned  to  Mr.  Redbrook. 

"  Now  what  does  all  this  mean  ?  "  he  demanded. 

"  It  means,"  said  Mr.  Redbrook,  "  that  when  the  time 
comes,  we  want  you  to  run  for  governor." 

Austen  went  to  the  mantelpiece,  and  stood  for  a  long 
time  with  his  back  turned,  staring  at  a  crayon  portrait  of 
Colonel  Peasley,  in  the  uniform  in  which  he  had  fallen  at 
the  battle  of  Gettysburg.  Then  he  swung  about  and 
seized  the  member  from  Mercer  by  both  broad  shoulders. 

"  James  Redbrook,"  he  said,  "  until  to-night  I  thought 
you  were  about  as  long-headed  and  sensible  a  man  as  there 
was  in  the  State." 

"  So  I  be,"  replied  Mr.  Redbrook,  with  a  grin.  "  You 
ask  young  Tom  Gaylord." 

"So  Tom  put  you  up  to  this  nonsense." 

"  It  ain't  nonsense,"  retorted  Mr.  Redbrook,  stoutly, 
"  and  Tom  didn't  put  me  up  to  it.  It's  the  best  notion 
that  ever  came  into  my  mind." 

Austen,  still  clinging  to  Mr.  Redbrook's  shoulders,  shook 
his  head  slowly. 


MR.   REDBROOK7S  PARTY  183 

"James,"  he  said,  "there  are  plenty  of  men  who  are 
>etter  equipped  than  I  for  the  place,  and  in  a  better  situa- 
ion  to  undertake  it.  I  —  I'm  much  obliged  to  you.  But 
'11  help.  I've  got  to  go,"  he  added;  "the  Honourable 
lilary  wants  to  see  me.1' 

He' went  into  the  entry  and  put  on  his  overshoes  and 
tis  coat,  while  James  Redbrook  regarded  him  with  a  curi- 
us  mingling  of  pain  and  benevolence  on  his  rugged  face. 

"  I  won't  press  you  now,  Austen,"  he  said,  "  but  think 
m  it.  For  God's  sake,  think  on  it." 

Outside,  Austen  paused  in  the  snow  once  more,  his  brain 

whirl  with  a  strange  exaltation  the  like  of  which  he  had 

lever  felt  before.      Although  eminently  human,  it  was 

lot  the  fact  that  honest  men  had  asked  him  to  be  their 

overnor  which  uplifted  him,  —  but   that  they  believed 

lim  to  be  as  honest  as  themselves.     In  that  hour  he  had 

asted  life  as  he  had  never  yet  tasted  it,  he  had  lived  as  he 

might  never  live  again.     Not  one  of  them,  he  remembered 

uddenly,  had  uttered  a  sentence  of  the  political  claptrap 

which  he  had  heard  so  much.  They  had  spoken  from 
ihe  soul ;  not  bitterly,  not  passionately,  but  their  words 
lad  rung  with  the  determination  which  had  made  their 
'orefathers  and  his  leave  home,  toil,  and  kindred  to  fight 
ind  die  at  Bunker  Hill  and  Gettysburg  for  a  principle.  It 
lad  been  given  him  to  look  that  night  into  the  heart  of  a 
nation,  and  he  was  awed. 

As  he  stood  there  under  the  winter  moon,  he  gradually 
>ecame  conscious  of  music,  of  an  air  that  seemed  the  very 
expression  of  his  mood.  His  eyes,  irresistibly  drawn 
owarcls  the  Duncan  house,  were  caught  by  the  fluttering 
of  lace  curtains  at  an  open  window.  The  notes  were 
;hose  of  a  piano,  —  though  the  instrument  mattered  little, 
—  that  with  which  they  were  charged  for  him  set  the 
light  wind  quivering.  It  was  not  simple  music,  although 
t  had  in  it  a  grand  simplicity.  At  times  it  rose,  vibrant 
with  inexpressible  feeling,  and  fell  again  into  gentler, 
reaming  cadences  that  wrung  the  soul  with  a  longing 
;hat  was  world-old  and  world-wide,  that  reached  out 
towards  the  unattainable  stars  —  and,  reaching,  became 


184  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

immortal.     Thus  was  the  end  of  it,  fainting  as  it  drifted 
heavenward. 

Then  the  window  was  closed. 

Austen  walked  on;  whither,  he  knew  not.  After  a 
certain  time  of  which  he  had  no  cognizance  he  found  him 
self  under  the  glaring  arc-light  that  hung  over  Main 
Street  before  the  Pelican  Hotel,  in  front  of  what  was 
known  as  the  ladies'  entrance.  He  slipped  in  there, 
avoiding  the  crowded  lobby  with  its  shifting  groups  and 
its  haze  of  smoke,  —  plainly  to  be  seen  behind  the  great 
plates  of  glass,  —  went  upstairs,  and  gained  room  Num 
ber  Seven  unnoticed.  Then,  after  the  briefest  moment  of 
hesitation,  he  knocked.  A  voice  responded  —  the  Hon 
ourable  Hilary's.  There  was  but  one  light  burning  in 
the  room,  and  Mr.  Vane  sat  in  his  accustomed  chair  in 
the  corner,  alone.  He  was  not  reading,  nor  was  he 
drowsing,  but  his  head  was  dropped  forward  a  little  on 
his  breast.  He  raised  it  slowly  at  his  son's  entrance, 
and  regarded  Austen  fixedly,  though  silently. 

"  You  wanted  to  see  me,  Judge  ?  "  said  Austen. 

"  Come  at  last,  have  you  ?  "  said  Mr.  Vane. 

"  I  didn't  intend  to  be  late,"  said  Austen. 

"  Seem  to  have  a  good  deal  of  business  on  hand  these 
days,"  the  Honourable  Hilary  remarked. 

Austen  took  a  step  forward,  and  stopped.  Mr.  Vane^ 
was  preparing  a  piece  of  Honey  Dew.  -  ububdr^CXcMt: 

"If  you  would  like  to  know  what  the  business  was, 
Judge,  I  am  here  to  tell  you." 

The  Honourable  Hilary  grunted. 

"  I  ain't  good  enough  to  be  confided  in,  I  guess,"  he  said; 
"  I  wouldn't  understand  motives  from  principle." 

Austen  looked  at  his  father  for  a  few  moments  in  silence. 
To-night  he  seemed  at  a  greater  distance  than  ever  before, 
and  more  lonely  than  ever.  When  Austen  had  entered 
the  room  and  had  seen  him  sitting  with  his  head  bowed 
forward,  the  hostility  of  months  of  misunderstanding  had 
fallen  away  from  the  son,  and  he  had  longed  to  fly  to  him 
as  he  had  as  a  child  after  punishment.  Differences  in 
after  life,  alas,  are  not  always  to  be  bridged  thus. 


MR.   REDBROOK'S   PARTY  185 

"  Judge,"  he  said  slowly,  with  an  attempt  to  control  his 
voice,  "  wouldn't  it  have  been  fairer  to  wait  awhile,  before 
you  made  a  remark  like  that  ?  Whatever  our  dealings  may 
have  been,  I  have  never  lied  to  you.  Anything  you  may 
want  to  know,  I  am  here  to  tell  you." 

"  So  you're  going  to  take  up  lobbying,  are  you  ?  I  had 
a  notion  you  were  above  lobbying." 

Austen  was  angered.  But  like  all  men  of  character, 
his  face  became  stern  under  provocation,  and  he  spoke 
more  deliberately. 

"  Before  we  go  any  farther,"  he  said,  "  would  you  mind 
telling  me  who  your  informant  is  on  this  point?  " 

"  I  guess  I  don't  need  an  informant.  My  eyesight  is 
as  good  as  ever,"  said  the  Honourable  Hilary. 

"  Your  deductions  are  usually  more  accurate.  If  any 
one  has  told  you  that  I  am  about  to  engage  in  lobbying, 
they  have  lied  to  you." 

"  Wouldn't  engage  in  lobbying,  would  you  ? "  the 
Honourable  Hilary  asked,  with  the  air  of  making  a  casual 
inquiry. 

Austen  flushed,  but  kept  his  temper. 

"  I  prefer  the  practice  of  law,"  he  replied. 

"  Saw  you  were  associatin'  with  saints,"  his  father 
remarked. 

Austen  bit  his  lip,  and  then  laughed  outright,  —  the 
canonization  of  old  Tom  Gaylord  being  too  much  for  him. 

"  Now,  Judge,"  he  said,  "  it  isn't  like  you  to  draw 
hasty  conclusions.  Because  I  sat  down  to  supper  with 
the  Gaylords  it  isn't  fair  to  infer  that  they  have  retained 
me  in  a  legislative  case." 

The  Honourable  Hilary  did  not  respond  to  his  son's 
humour,  but  shifted  the  Honey  Dew  to  the  left  cheek. 

"  Old  Tom  going  in  for  reform  ?  " 

"  He  may  bring  it  about,"  answered  Austen,  instantly 
becoming  serious  again,  "  whether  he's  going  in  for  it  or 
not." 

For  the  first  time  the  Honourable  Hilary  raised  his  eyes 
to  his  son's  face,  and  shot  at  him  a  penetrating  look 
of  characteristic  shrewdness.  But  he  followed  in  conver- 


186  MR,   CREWE'S   CAREER 

sation  the  same  rule  as  in  examining  a  witness,  rarely 
asking  a  direct  question,  except  as  a  tactical  surprise. 

"  Old  Tom  ought  to  have  his  railroad,  oughtn't  he?  :' 

"  So  far  as  I  can  see,  it  would  be  a  benefit  to  the  people 
of  that  part  of  the  State,"  said  Austen. 

"  Building  it  for  the  people,  is  he  ?  " 

"  His  motive  doesn't  count.  The  bill  should  be  judged 
on  its  merits,  and  proper  measures  for  the  safeguarding 
of  public  interests  should  be  put  into  it." 

"  Don't  think  the  bill  will  be  judged  on  its  merits,  do 
you?" 

"No,  I  don't,"  replied  Austen,  "  and  neither  do  you." 

"Did  you  tell  old  Tom  so?"  asked  Mr.  Vane,  after  a 
pause.  "  Did  you  tell  old  Tom  so  when  he  sent  for  you 
to  take  hold  ?  "' 

"  He  didn't  send  for  me,"  answered  Austen,  quietly, 
"  and  I  have  no  business  dealings  with  him  except  small 
suits.  What  I  did  tell  him  was  that  he  would  never  get 
the  bill  through  this  session  or  next  by  lobbying." 

The  Honourable  Hilary  never  showed  surprise.  He 
emitted  a  grunt  which  evinced  at  once  impatience  and 
amusement. 

"  Why  not  ?"  he  asked. 

"  Well,  Judge,  I'll  tell  you  what  I  told  him  —  although 
you  both  know.  It's  because  the  Northeastern  owns  the 
Republican  party  machine,  which  is  the  lobby,  and  be 
cause  most  of  the  twenty  State  senators  are  dependent 
upon  the  Northeastern  for  future  favours." 

"Did  you  tell  Tom  Gaylord  that?"  demanded  Mr. 
Vane.  "  What  did  he  say  ?  " 

Austen  braced  himself.    He  did  not  find  the  answer  easy. 

"  He  said  he  knew  about  Number  Seven  as  well  as  I  did." 

The  Honourable  Hilary  rose  abruptly  —  perhaps  in  some 
secret  agitation  —  Austen  could  not  discern.  His  father 
walked  as  far  as  the  door,  and  turned  slowly  and  faced 
him,  but  he  did  not  speak.  His  mouth  was  tightly  closed, 
almost  as  in  pain,  and  Austen  went  towards  him,  appeal- 
y. 
Judge,"  he  said,  "  you  sent  for  me.  You  have  asked 


MR.   REDBROOK'S   PARTY  187 

me  questions  which  I  felt  obliged  in  honesty  to  answer. 
God  knows  I  don't  wish  to  differ  with  you,  but  circumstances 
seem  always  against  us.  I  will  talk  plainly,  if  you  will 
let  me.  I  try  to  look  at  things  from  your  point  of  view. 
I  know  that  you  believe  that  a  political  system  should 
go  hand  in  hand  with  the  great  commercial  system  which 
you  are  engaged  in  building.  I  disagree  with  your 
beliefs,  but  I  do  not  think  that  your  pursuit  of  them 
has  not  "been  sincere,  and  justified  by  your  conscience.  I 
suppose  that,  you  sent  for  me  to  know  whether  Mr.  Gay- 
lord  has  employed  me  to  lobby  for  his  bill.  He  has  not, 
because  I  refused  that  employment.  But  I  will  tell  you 
that,  in  my  opinion,  if  a  man  of  any  ability  whatever 
should  get  up  on  the  floor  of  the  House  and  make  an 
argument  for  the  Pingsquit  bill,  the  sentiment  against 
the  Northeastern  and  its  political  power  is  so  great  that 
the  House  would  compel  the  committee  to  report  the  bill, 
and  pass  it.  You  probably  know  this  already,  but  I  men 
tion  it  for  your  own  good  if  you  do  not,  in  the  hope 
that,  through  you,  the  Northeastern  Railroads  may  De 
induced  to  relax  their  grip  upon  the  government  of  this 
State." 

The  Honourable  Hilary  advanced,  until  only  the  marble- 
topped  table  was  between  himself  and  his  son.  A  slight 
noise  in  the  adjoining  room  caused  him  to  turn  his  head 
momentarily.  Then  he  faced  Austen  again. 

"  Did  you  tell  Gaylord  this  ?  "  he  asked. 

Austen  made  a  gesture  of  distaste,  and  turned  away. 

"  No,"  he  said,  "  I  reserved  the  opinion,  whatever  it  is 
worth,  for  your  ears  alone." 

/l  I've  heard  that  kind  of  calculation  before,"  said  the  Hon 
ourable  Hilary.  "  My  experience  is  that  they  never  come 
to  much.  As  for  this  nonsense  about  the  Northeastern 
Railroads  running  things,"  he  added  more  vigorously,  "  I 
guess  when  it's  once  in  a  man's  head  there's  no  getting  it 
out.  The  railroad  employs  the  best  lawyers  it  can  find  to 
look  after  its  interests.  I'm  one  of  'em,  and  I'm  proud  of 
it.  If  I  hadn't  been  one  of  'em,  the  chances  are  you'd  never 
be  where  you  are,  that  you'd  never  have  gone  to  college  and 


188  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

the  law  school,  The  Republican  party  realizes  that  the 
Northeastern  is  most  vitally  connected  with  the  material 
interests  of  this  State  ;  that  the  prosperity  of  the  road 
means  the  prosperity  of  the  State.  And  the  leaders  of  the 
party  protect  the  road  from  vindictive  assaults  on  it  like 
Gaylord's,  and  from  scatterbrains  and  agitators  like  your 
friend  Redbrook." 

Austen  shook  his  head  sadly  as  he  gazed  at  his  father. 
He  had  always  recognized  the  futility  of  arguments,  if 
argument  on  this  point  ever  arose  between  them. 

"  It's  no  use,  Judge,"  he  said.  "  If  material  prosperity 
alone  were  to  be  considered,  your  contention  would  have 
some  weight.  The  perpetuation  of  the  principle  of  Ameri 
can  government  has  to  be  thought  of.  Government  by  a 
railroad  will  lead  in  the  end  to  anarchy.  You  are  court 
ing  destruction  as  it  is." 

u  If  you  came  in  here  to  quote  your  confounded  Emer 
son  —  "  the  Honourable  Hilary  began,  but  Austen  slipped 
around  the  table  and  took  him  by  the  arm  and  led  him 
perforce  to  his  chair. 

44  No,  Judge,  that  isn't  Emerson,"  he  answered.  "  It's 
just  common  sense,  only  it  sounds  to  you  like  drivel.  I'm 
going  now,  —  unless  you  want  to  hear  some  more  about 
the  plots  I've  been  getting  into.  But  I  want  to  say  this. 
I  ask  you  to  remember  that  you're  my  father,  and  that  — 
I'm  fond  of  you.  And  that,  if  you  and  I  happen  to  be 
on  opposite  sides,  it  won't  make  any  difference  as  far  as 
my  feelings  are  concerned.  I'm  always  ready  to  tell  you 
frankly  what  I'm  doing,  if  you  wish  to  know.  Good-by. 
I  suppose  I'll  see  you  in  Riptoii  at  the  end  of  the  week." 
And  he  pressed  his  father's  shoulder. 

Mr.  Vane  looked  up  at  his  son  with  a  curious  expression. 
Perhaps  (as  when  Austen  returned  from  the  shooting  of 
Mr.  Blodgett  in  the  West)  there  was  a  smattering  of 
admiration  and  pride  in  that  look,  and  something  of  an 
affection  which  had  long  ceased  in  its  strivings  for  utterance. 
It  was  the  unconscious  tribute,  too,  —  slight  as  was  its 
exhibition,  —  of  the  man  whose  life  has  been  spent  in  the 
conquest  of  material  things  to  the  man  who  has  the  audacity, 


"I   ASK    YOU    TO   REMEMBER    THAT    YOU'RE     MY     FATHER,   AND    THAT I'M 

FOND   OF    YOU." 


MR.   REDBROOK'S   PARTY  189 

insensate  though  it  seem,  to  fling  these  to  the  winds  in  his 
search  after  ideals. 

"  Good-by,  Austen,"  said  Mr.  Vane. 

Austen  got  as  far  as  the  door,  cast  another  look  back 
at  his  father,  —  who  was  sitting  motionless,  with  head 
bowed,  as  when  he  came,  —  and  went  out.  So  Mr.  Vane 
remained  for  a  fall  minute  after  the  door  had  closed,  and 
then  he  raised  his  head  sharply  and  gave  a  piercing  glance 
at  the  curtains  that  separated  Number  Seven  from  the 
governor's  room.  In  three  strides  he  had  reached  them, 
flung  them  open,  and  the  folding  doors  behind  them, — 
already  parted  by  four  inches.  The  gas  was  turned  low, 
but  under  the  chandelier  was  the  figure  of  a  young  man 
struggling  with  an  overcoat.  The  Honourable  Hilary  did 
not  hesitate,  but  came  forward  with  a  swiftness  that  para 
lyzed  the  young  man,  who  turned  upon  him  a  face  on 
which  was  meant  to  be  written  surprise  and  a  just  indigna 
tion,  but  in  reality  was  a  mixture  of  impudence  and  pallid 
fright.  The  Honourable  Hilary,  towering  above  him,  and 
with  that  grip  on  his  arm,  was  a  formidable  person. 

"  Listening,  were  you,  Ham  ?  "  he  demanded. 

"  No,"  cried  Mr.  Tooting,  with  a  vehemence  he  meant 
for  force.  "No,  I  wasn't.  Listening  to  who?" 

"Humph  !"  said  the  Honourable  Hilary,  still  retaining 
with  one  hand  the  grip  on  Mr.  Tooting's  arm,  and  with 
the  other  turning  up  the  gas  until  it  flared  in  Mr.  Tooting's 
face.  "  What  are  you  doing  in  the  governor's  room?" 

"  I  left  my  overcoat  in  here  this  afternoon  when  you 
sent  me  to  bring  up  the  senator." 

"Ham,"  said  Mr.  Vane,  "it  isn't  any  use  lying  to  me." 

"  I  ain't  lying  to  you,"  said  Mr.  Tooting,  "  I  never  did. 
I  often  lied  for  you,"  he  added,  "  and  you  didn't  raise  any 
objections  that  I  remember." 

Mr.  Vane  let  go  of  the  arm  contemptuously. 

"  I've  done  dirty  work  for  the  Northeastern  for  a  good 
many  years,"  cried  Mr.  Tooting,  seemingly  gaining  conr 
fidence  now  that  he  was  free ;  "  I've  slaved  for  'em,  and 
what  have  they  done  for  me  ?  They  wouldn't  even  back 
me  for  county  solicitor  when  I  wanted  the  job." 


190  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

"  Turned  reformer,  Ham  ?  " 

"  I  guess  I've  got  as  much  right  to  turn  reformer  as  some 
folks  I  know." 

"  I  guess  you  have,"  agreed  the  Honourable  Hilary,  un 
expectedly.  He  seated  himself  on  a  chair,  and  proceeded 
to  regard  Mr.  Tooting  in  a  manner  extremely  disconcerting 
to  that  gentleman.  This  quality  of  impenetrability,  of 
never  being  sure  when  he  was  angry,  had  baffled  more  able 
opponents  of  Hilary  Vane  than  Mr.  Hamilton  Tooting. 
"Good-night,  Ham." 

"I  want  to  say  —  "  Mr.  Tooting  began. 

"  Good-night,  Ham,"  said  Mr.  Vane,  once  more. 

Mr.  Tooting  looked  at  him,  slowly  buttoned  up  his 
overcoat,  and  departed. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

THE  REALM   OF   PEGASUS 

THE  eventful  day  of  Mr.  Humphrey  Crewe's  speech  on 
national  affairs  dawned  without  a  cloud  in  the  sky.  The 
snow  was  of  a  dazzling  whiteness  and  sprinkled  with  dia 
mond  dust,  and  the  air  of  such  transcendent  clearness  that 
Austen  could  see  —  by  leaning  a  little  out  of  the  Widow 
Peasley's  window  —  the  powdered  top  of  Holdfast  Moun 
tain  some  thirty  miles  away.  For  once,  a  glance  at  the 
mountain  sufficed  him,  and  he  directed  his  gaze  through 
the  trees  at  the  Duncan  house,  engaging  in  a  pleasant 
game  of  conjecture  as  to  which  was  her  window.  In  such 
weather  the  heights  of  Helicon  seemed  as  attainable  as 
the  peak  of  Holdfast,  and  he  had  but  to  beckon  a  shining 
Pegasus  from  out  a  sun-shaft  in  the  sky.  Obstacles  were 
mere  specks  on  the  snow. 

He  forgot  to  close  the  window,  and  dressed  in  a  tem 
perature  which  would  have  meant,  for  many  mortals, 
pneumonia.  The  events  of  yesterday,  painful  and  agi 
tating  as  they  had  been,  had  fallen  away  in  the  prospect 
that  lay  before  him  —  he  would  see  her  to-day,  and  speak 
with  her.  These  words,  like  a  refrain,  were  humming  in 
his  head  as  honest  Mr.  Redbrook  talked  during  breakfast, 
while  Austen's  answers  may  have  been  both  intelligent 
and  humorous.  Mr.  Redbrook,  at  least,  gave  no  sign 
that  they  were  not.  He  was  aware  that  Mr.  Redbrook 
was  bringing  arguments  to  bear  on  the  matter  of  the 
meeting  of  the  evening  before,  but  he  fended  these  lightly, 
while  in  spirit  he  flung  a  gem-studded  bridle  over  the  neck 
of  Pegasus. 

And  after  breakfast  —  away  from  the  haunts  of  men! 
Away  from  the  bickerings,  the  subjection  of  mean  spirits, 

191 


192  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

material  loss  and  gain  and  material  passion  !  By  eight 
o'clock  (the  Widow  Peasley's  household  being  an  early 
and  orderly  one)  he  was  swinging  across  the  long  hills, 
cleaving  for  himself  a  furrowed  path  in  the  untrodden 
snow,  breathing  deep  as  he  gazed  across  the  blue  spaces 
from  the  crests.  Bellerophon  or  Perseus,  aided  by  im 
mortals,  felt  no  greater  sense  of  achievements  to  come 
than  he.  Out  here,  on  the  wind-swept  hills  that  rolled 
onward  and  upward  to  the  mountains,  the  world  was  his. 

With  the  same  speed  he  returned,  still  by  untrodden 
paths  until  he  reached  the  country  road  that  ended  in 
the  city  street.  Some  who  saw  him  paused  in  their  steps, 
caught  unconsciously  by  the  rhythmic  perfection  of  his 
motion.  Ahead  of  him  he  beheld  the  state-house,  its  dial 
aflame  in  the  light,  emblematic  to  him  of  the  presence 
within  it  of  a  spirit  which  cleansed  it  of  impurities.  She 
would  be  there ;  nay,  when  he  looked  at  the  dial  from 
a  different  angle,  was  there.  As  he  drew  nearer,  there 
rose  out  of  the  void  her  presence  beside  him  which  he  had 
daily  tried  to  summon  since  that  autumn  afternoon  — her 
voice  and  her  eyes,  and  many  of  the  infinite  expressions 
of  each  and  both.  Sprites  that  they  were,  they  had  failed 
him  until  to-day,  when  he  was  to  see  her  again ! 

And  then,  somehow,  he  had  threaded  the  groups  beside 
the  battle-flags  in  the  corridor,  and  mounted  the  stairway. 
The  doorkeeper  of  the  House  looked  into  his  face,  and, 
with  that  rare  knowledge  of  mankind  which  doorkeepers 
possess,  let  him  in.  There  were  many  ladies  on  the  floor 
(such  being  the  chivalrous  custom  when  a  debate  or  a 
speech  of  the  importance  of  Mr.  Crewe's  was  going  on), 
but  Austen  swept  them  with  a  glance  of  disappointment. 
Was  it  possible,  after  all,  that  she  had  not  come,  or  — 
more  agitating  thought  —  had  gone  back  to  New  York? 

At  this  disturbing  point  in  his  reflections  Austen  became 
aware  that  the  hall  was  ringing  with  a  loud  and  compel 
ling  voice  which  originated  in  front  of  the  Speaker's  desk. 

The  Honourable  Humphrey  Crewe  was  delivering  his 
long-heralded  speech  on  national  affairs,  and  was  arrayed 
for  the  occasion  in  a  manner  befitting  the  American  states- 


THE   REALM   OF  PEGASUS  193 

man,  with  the  conventional  frock  coat,  which  he  wore 
unbuttoned.  But  the  Gladstone  collar  and  a  tie  gave  the 
touch  of  individuality  to  his  dress  which  was  needed  to 
set  him  aside  as  a  marked  man.  Austen  suddenly  re 
membered,  with  an  irresistible  smile,  that  one  of  the 
reasons  which  he  had  assigned  for  his  visit  to  the  capital 
was  to  hear  this  very  speech,  to  see  how  Mr.  Crewe  would 
carry  off  what  appeared  to  be  a  somewhat  difficult  situa 
tion.  Whether  or  not  this  motive  had  drawn  others, — 
for  the  millionaire's  speech  had  not  lacked  advertisement, 
• — it  is  impossible  to  say,  but  there  was  standing  room 
only  on  the  floor  of  the  House  that  day. 

The  fact  that  Mr.  Crewe  was  gratified  could  not  be 
wholly  concealed.  The  thing  that  fascinated  Austen  Vane 
and  others  who  listened  was  the  aplomb  \vith  which  the 
speech  was  delivered.  The  member  from  Leith  showed 
no  trace  of  the  nervousness  naturally  to  be  expected  in  a 
maiden  effort,  but  spoke  with  the  deliberation  of  an  old 
campaigner,  of  the  man  of  weight  and  influence  that  he 
was.  He  leaned,  part' of  the  time,  with  his  elbow  on  the 
clerk's  desk,  with  his  feet  crossed  ;  again,  when  he  wished 
to  emphasize  a  point,  he  came  forward  and  seized  with 
both  hands  the  back  of  his  chair.  Sometimes  he  thrust 
his  thumb  in  his  waistcoat  pocket,  and  turned  with  an 
appeal  to  Mr.  Speaker  Doby,  who  was  apparently  too 
thrilled  and  surprised  to  indulge  in  conversation  with 
those  on  the  bench  beside  him,  and  who  made  no  attempt 
to  quell  hand-clapping  and  even  occasional  whistling; 
again,  after  the  manner  of  experts,  Mr.  Crewe  addressed 
himself  forcibly  to  an  individual  in  the  audience,  usually 
a  sensitive  and  responsive  person  like  the  Honourable 
Jacob  Botcher,  who  on  such  occasions  assumed  a  look 
of  infinite  wisdom  and  nodded  his  head  slowly.  There 
was  no  doubt  about  it  that  the  compelling  personality  of 
Mr.  Humphrey  Crewe  was  creating  a  sensation.  Genius 
is  sure  of  itself,  and  statesmen  are  born,  not  made. 

Able  and  powerful  as  was  Mr.  Crewe's  discourse,  the 
man  and  not  the  words  had  fastened  the  wandering  atten 
tion  of  Austen  Vane.  He  did  not  perceive  his  friend  of 


194  MR.   CREWE'S  CAREER 

the  evening  before,  Mr.  Widgeon,  coming  towards  him  up 
the  side  aisle,  until  he  felt  a  touch  on  the  arm. 

"  Take  my  seat.  It  ain't  exactly  a  front  one,"  whispered 
the  member  from  Hull,  "my  wife's  cousin's  comin'  on  the 
noon  train.  Not  a  bad  speech,  is  it  ?  "  he  added.  "  Acts 
like  a  veteran.  I  didn't  callate  he  had  it  in  him." 

Thus  aroused,  Austen  made  his  way  towards  the  vacant 
chair,  and  when  he  was  seated  raised  his  eyes  to  the  gallery 
rail,  and  Mr.  Crewe,  the  legislative  chamber,  and  its  audi 
ence  ceased  to  exist.  It  is  quite  impossible  —  unless  one 
is  a  poetical  genius  —  to  reproduce  on  paper  that  gone  and 
sickly  sensation  which  is,  paradoxically,  so  exquisite.  The 
psychological  cause  of  it  in  this  instance  was,  primarily, 
the  sight,  by  Austen  Vane,  of  his  own  violets  on  a  black, 
tailor-made  gown  trimmed  with  wide  braid,  and  secondarily 
of  an  oval  face  framed  in  a  black  hat,  the  subtle  curves  of 
which  no  living  man  could  describe.  The  face  was  turned 
in  his  direction,  and  he  felt  an  additional  thrill  when  he 
realized  that  she  must  have  been  watching  him  as  he  came 
in,  for  she  was  leaning  forward  with  a  gloved  hand  on  the 
railing. 

He  performed  that  act  of  conventionality  known  as  a 
bow,  and  she  nodded  her  head  —  black  hat  and  all.  The 
real  salutation  was  a  divine  ray  which  passed  between  their 
eyes  —  hers  and  his  —  over  the  commonplace  mortals  be 
tween.  And  after  that,  although  the  patient  legislative 
clock  in  the  corner  which  had  marked  the  space  of  other 
great  events  (such  as  the  Woodchuck  Session)  continued 
to  tick,  undisturbed  in  this  instance  by  the  pole  of  the 
sergeant-at-arms,  time  became  a  lost  dimension  for  Austen 
Vane.  He  made  a  few  unimportant  discoveries  such  as 
the  fact  that  Mrs.  Pomfret  and  her  daughter  were  seated 
beside  Victoria,  listening  with  a  rapt  attention ;  and 
that  Mr.  Crewe  had  begun  to  read  statistics;  and  that 
some  people  were  gaping  and  others  leaving.  He  could 
look  up  at  the  gallery  without  turning  his  head,  and 
sometimes  he  caught  her  momentary  glance,  and  again, 
with  her  chin  in  her  hand,  she  was  watching  Mr.  Crewe 
with  a  little  smile  creasing  the  corners  of  her  eyes. 


THE  REALM  OF  PEGASUS  195 

A  horrible  thought  crossed  Austen's  mind  —  perhaps  they 
were  not  his  violets  after  all!  Because  she  had  smiled  at 
him,  yesterday  and  to-day,  he  had  soared  heavenwards  on 
wings  of  his  own  making.  Perhaps  they  were  Mr.  Crewe's 
violets.  Had  she  not  come  to  visit  Mr.  Crewe,  to  listen 
to  his  piece  de  resistance,  without  knowing  that  he,  Austen 
Vane,  would  be  in  the  capital  ?  The  idea  that  her  interest 
in  Austen  Vane  was  possibly  connected  with  the  study  of 
mankind  had  a  sobering  effect  on  him;  and  the  notion  that 
she  had  another  sort  of  interest  in  Mr.  Crewe  seemed  ridicu 
lous  enough,  but  disturbing,  and  supported  by  facts. 

Austen  had  reached  this  phase  in  his  reflections  when  he 
was  aroused  by  a  metallic  sound  which  arose  above  the 
resonant  tones  of  the  orator  of  the  day.  A  certain  vessel, 
to  the  use  of  which,  according  to  Mr.  Dickens,  the  entire 
male  portion  of  the  American  nation  was  at  one  time 
addicted,  —  a  cuspidor,  in  plain  language,  —  had  been 
started,  by  some  unknown  agency  in  the  back  seats,  rolling 
down  the  centre  aisle,  and  gathering  impetus  as  it  went, 
bumped  the  louder  on  each  successive  step  until  it  hurled 
itself  with  a  clash  against  the  clerk's  desk,  at  the  feet  of 
the  orator  himself.  During  its  descent  a  titter  arose  which 
gradually  swelled  into  a  roar  of  laughter,  and  Austen's 
attention  was  once  more  focussed  upon  the  member  from 
Leith.  But  if  any  man  had  so  misjudged  the  quality  of 
Humphrey  Crewe  as  to  suppose  for  an  instant  that  he 
could  be  put  out  of  countenance  by  such  a  manoeuvre, 
that  man  was  mightily  mistaken.  Mr.  Crewe  paused, 
with  his  forefinger  on  the  page,  and  fixed  a  glassy  eye  on 
the  remote  neighbourhood  in  the  back  seats  where  the 
disturbance  had  started. 

"  I  am  much  obliged  to  the  gentleman,"  he  said  coldly, 
"  but  he  has  sent  me  an  article  which  I  never  use,  under 
any  conditions.  I  would  not  deprive  him  of  its  con 
venience." 

Whereupon,  it  is  not  too  much  to  say,  Mr.  Crewe  was 
accorded  an  ovation,  led  by  his  stanch  friend  and  admirer, 
the  Honourable  Jacob  Botcher,  although  that  worthy  had 
been  known  to  use  the  article  in  question. 


196  MR.   CREWE'S  CAREER 

Mr.  Speaker  Doby  glanced  at  the  faithful  clock,  and 
arose  majestically. 

"  I  regret  to  say,"  he  announced,  "  that  the  time  of  the 
gentleman  from  Leith  is  up." 

Mr.  Botcher  rose  slowly  to  his  feet. 

"  Mr.  Speaker,"  he  began,  in  a  voice  that  rumbled  through 
the  crevices  of  the  gallery,  "I  move  you,  sir,  that  a  vote 
of  thanks  be  accorded  to  the  gentleman  from  Leith  for 
his  exceedingly  able  and  instructive  speech  on  national 
affairs." 

"  Second  the  motion,"  said  the  Honourable  Brush  Bascom, 
instantly. 

"And  leave  to  print  in  the  State  Tribune!"  cried  a 
voice  from  somewhere  among  the  submerged  four  hundred 
and  seventy. 

"  Gentlemen  of  the  House,"  said  Mr.  Crewe,  when  the 
laughter  had  subsided,  "  I  have  given  you  a  speech  which 
is  the  result  of  much  thought  and  preparation  on  my  part 
I  have  not  flaunted  the  star-spangled  banner  in  your  faces 
or  indulged  in  oratorical  fireworks.  Mine  have  been  the 
words  of  a  plain  business  man,  and  I  have  not  indulged  in 
wild  accusations  or  flights  of  imagination.  Perhaps,  if 
had/'  he  added,  "there  are  some  who  would  have  been 
better  pleased.  I  thank  my  friends  for  their  kind  atten 
tion  and  approbation." 

Nevertheless,  amidst  somewhat  of  a  pandemonium,  the 
vote  of  thanks  was  given  and  the  House  adjourned;  while 
Mr.  Crewe's  friends  of  whom  he  had  spoken  could  be  seen 
pressing  around  him  and  shaking  him  by  the  hand.  Austen 
got  to  his  feet,  his  eyes  again  sought  the  gallery,  whence 
he  believed  he  received  a  look  of  understanding  from  a 
face  upon  which  amusement  seemed  plainly  written.  She 
had  turned  to  glance  down  at  him,  despite  the  fact  thai 
Mrs.  Pomfret  was  urging  her  to  leave.  Austen  started 
for  the  door,  and  managed  to  reach  it  long  before  his 
neighbours  had  left  the  vicinity  of  their  seats.  Once 
in  the  corridor,  his  eye  singled  her  out  amongst  those 
descending  the  gallery  stairs,  and  he  had  a  little  thrill  oJ 
pride  and  despair  when  he  realized  that  she  was  the  object 


THE  REALM  OF  PEGASUS  197 

of  the  scrutiny,  too,  of  the  men  around  him;  the  women 
were  interested,  likewise,  in  Mrs.  Pomfret,  whose  appear 
ance,  although  appropriate  enough  for  a  New  York  matinee, 
proclaimed  her  as  hailing  from  that  mysterious  and  fabu 
lous  city  of  wealth.  This  lady,  with  her  lorgnette,  was 
examining  the  faces  about  her  in  undisguised  curiosity, 
and  at  the  same  time  talking  to  Victoria  in  a  voice  which 
she  took  no  pains  to  lower. 

"  I  think  it  outrageous,"  she  was  saying.  "  If  some 
Radical  member  had  done  that  in  Parliament,  he  would 
have  been  expelled  from  the  House.  But  of  course  in 
Parliament  they  wouldn't  have  those  horrid  things  to  roll 
down  the  aisles.  Poor  dear  Humphrey  !  The  career  of 
a  gentleman  in  politics  is  a  thankless  one  in  this  country. 
I  wonder  at  his  fortitude." 

Victoria's  eyes  alone  betokened  her  amusement. 

"  How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Vane?  "  she  said.  "  I'm  so  glad  to 
see  you  again." 

Austen  said  something  which  he  felt  was  entirely  com 
monplace  and  inadequate  to  express  his  own  sentiments, 
while  Alice  gave  him  an  uncertain  bow,  and  Mrs.  Pomfret 
turned  her  glasses  upon  him. 

"  You  remember  Mr.  Vane,"  said  Victoria;  "  you  met 
him  at  Humphrey's." 

"  Did  I  ?  "  answered  Mrs.  Pomfret.  "  How  do  you  do  ? 
Can't  something  be  done  to  punish  those  rowdies  ?  " 

Austen  grew  red. 

"  Mr.  Vane  isn't  a  member  of  the  House,"  said  Victoria. 

"  Oh,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Pomfret.  "  Something  ought  to 
be  done  about  it.  In  England  such  a  thing  wouldn't  be 
allowed  to  drop  for  a  minute.  If  I  lived  in  this  State,  I 
think  I  should  do  something.  Nobody  in  America  seems 
to  have  the  spirit  even  to  make  a  protest." 

Austen  turned  quietly  to  Victoria. 

"  When  are  you  going  away?  "  he  asked. 

"  To-morrow  morning  —  earlier  than  I  like  to  think  of. 
I  have  to  be  in  New  York  by  to-morrow  night." 

She  flashed  at  him  a  look  of  approbation  for  his  self- 
control,  and  then,  by  a  swift  transition  which  he  had 


198  MR.   CREWE'S  CAREER 

often  remarked,  her  expression  changed  to  one  of  amuse 
ment,  although  a  seriousness  lurked  in  the  depths  of  her 
eyes.  Mrs.  Pomfret  had  gone  on,  with  Alice,  and  they 
followed. 

"  And  —  ami  not  to  see  you  again  before  you  go?" 
he  exclaimed. 

He  didn't  stop  to  reason  then  upon  the  probable  con 
sequences  of  his  act  in  seeking  her.  Nature,  which  is 
stronger  than  reason,  was  compelling  him. 

"  That  depends,"  said  Victoria. 

"  Upon  whom  ?  " 

"  Upon  you." 

They  were  on  the  lower  stairs  by  this  time,  and  there 
was  silence  between  them  for  a  few  moments  as  they 
descended,  —  principally  because,  after  this  exalting  re 
mark,  Austen  could  not  trust  himself  to  speak. 

"  Will  you  go  driving  with  me  ?  "  he  asked,  and  was 
immediately  thunderstruck  at  his  boldness. 

"Yes,"  she  answered,  simply. 

"  How  soon  may  I  come  ?  "  he  demanded. 

She  laughed  softly,  but  with  a  joyous  note  which  was 
not  hidden  from  him  as  they  stepped  out  of  the  darkened 
corridor  into  the  dazzling  winter  noonday. 

"  I  will  be  ready  at  three  o'clock,"  she  said. 

He  looked  at  his  watch. 

"  Two  hours  and  a  half  !  "  he  cried. 

"  If  that  is  too  early,"  she  said  mischievously,  "  we  can 
go  later." 

"  Too  early  !  "  he  repeated.  But  the  rest  of  his  protest 
was  cut  short  by  Mr.  Crewe. 

"  Hello,  Victoria,  what  did  you  think  of  my  speech  ?  " 

"  The  destinies  of  the  nation  are  settled,"  said  Victoria. 
"  Do  you  know  Mr.  Vane  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  how  are  you  ?  "  said  Mr.  Crewe;  "  glad  to  see 
you,"  and  he  extended  a  furred  glove.  "  Were  you  there  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Austen. 

"  I'll  send  you  a  copy.  I'd  like  to  talk  it  over  with 
you.  Come  on,  Victoria,  I've  arranged  for  an  early  lunch. 
Come  on,  Mrs.  Pomfret  —  get  in,  Alice." 


THE  REALM   OF   PEGASUS  199 

Mrs.  Pomfret,  still  protesting  against  the  profane  inter 
ruption  to  Mr.  Crewe's  speech,  bent  her  head  to  enter  Mr. 
Crewe's  booby  sleigh,  which  had  his  crest  on  the  panel. 
Alice  was  hustled  in  next,  but  Victoria  avoided  his 
ready  assistance  and  got  in  herself,  Mr.  Crewe  getting  in 
beside  her. 

uAu  revoir,"  she  called  out  to  Austen,  as  the  door 
slammed.  The  coachman  gathered  his  horses  together, 
and  off  they  went  at  a  brisk  trot.  Then  the  little  group 
which  had  been  watching  the  performance  dispersed. 
Halfway  across  the  park  Austen  perceived  some  one  sig 
nalling  violently  to  him,  and  discovered  his  friend,  young 
Tom  Gaylord. 

44  Come  to  dinner  with  me,"  said  young  Tom,  44  and 
tell  me  whether  the  speech  of  your  friend  from  Leith  will 
send  him  to  Congress.  I  saw  you  hobnobbing  with  him 
just  now.  What's  the  matter,  Austen?  I  haven't  seen 
that  guilty  expression  on  your  face  since  we  were  at 
college  together." 

44  What's  the  best  livery-stable  in  town  ? "  Austen 
asked. 

44  By  George,  I  wondered  why  you  came  down  here. 
Who  are  you  going  to  take  out  in  a  sleigh  ?  There's  a 
girl  in  it,  is  there  ?  " 

44  Not  yet,  Tom,"  said  Austen. 

44  I've  often  asked  myself  why  I  ever  had  any  use  for 
such  a  secretive  cuss  as  you,"  declared  young  Mr.  Gaylord. 
44  But  if  you're  really  goin'  to  get  interested  in  girls,  you 
ought  to  see  old  Flint's  daughter.  1  wrote  you  about  her. 
Why,"  exclaimed  Tom,  44  wasn't  she  one  of  those  that  got 
into  Crewe's  sleigh  ?  " 

44  Tom,"  said  Austen,  44  where  did  you  say  that  livery- 
stable  was  ?  " 

44  Oh,  dang  the  livery-stable !  "  answered  Mr.  Gaylord. 
*'•  I  hear  there's  quite  a  sentiment  for  you  for  governor. 
How  about  it  ?  You  know  I've  always  said  you  could  be 
United  States  senator  and  President.  If  you'll  only  say 
the  word,  Austen,  we'll  work  up  a  movement  around  the 
State  that'll  be  hard  to  beat." 


200  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

"  Tom,"  said  Austen,  laying  his  hand  on  young  Mr. 
Gaylord's  farther  shoulder,  "you're  a  pretty  good  fellow. 
Where  did  you  say  that  livery-stable  was  ?  " 

"  I'll  go  sleigh-riding  with  you,"  said  Mr.  Gaylord. 
"  I  guess  the  Pingsquit  bill  can  rest  one  afternoon." 

"  Tom,  I  don't  know  any  man  I'd  rather  take  than  you," 
said  Austen. 

The  unsuspecting  Tom  was  too  good-natured  to  be 
offended,  and  shortly  after  dinner  Austen  found  himself 
in  the  process  of  being  looked  over  by  a  stout  gentleman 
named  Putter,  proprietor  of  Putter's  Livery,  who  claimed 
to  be  a  judge  of  men  as  well  as  horses.  Austen  had  been 
through  his  stalls  and  chosen  a  mare. 

"  Durned  if  you  don't  look  like  a  man  who  can  handle 
a  hoss,"  said  Mr.  Putter.  "  And  as  long  as  you're  a  friend 
of  Tom  Gaylord's  I'll  let  you  have  her.  Nobody  drives 
that  mare  but  me.  What's  your  name  ?  " 

"Vane." 

"  Ain't  any  relation  to  old  Hilary,  be  you  ?  " 

44  I'm  his  son,"  said  Austen,  "  only  he  doesn't  boast 
about  it." 

"  Godfrey!  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Putter,  with  a  broad  grin, 
44 1  guess  you  kin  have  her.  Ain't  you  the  man  that  shot  a 
feller  out  West?  Seems  to  me  I  heerd  somethin'  about  it." 

44  Which  one  did  you  hear  about  ?  "  Austen  asked. 

44  Good  Lord!  "said  Mr.  Putter,  44you  didn't  shoot 
more'n  one,  did  you  ?  " 

It  was  just  three  o'clock  when  Austen  drove  into  the 
semicircle  opposite  the  Widow  Peasley's,  rang  Mr.  Crewe's 
door-bell,  and  leaped  into  the  sleigh  once  more,  the  mare's 
nature  being  such  as  to  make  it  undesirable  to  leave  her. 
Presently  Mr.  Crewe's  butler  appeared,  and  stood  du 
biously  in  the  vestibule. 

44  Will  you  tell  Miss  Flint  that  Mr.  Vane  has  called  for 
her,  and  that  I  cannot  leave  the  horse?" 

The  man  retired  with  obvious  disapproval.  Then  Austen 
Heard  Victoria's  voice  in  the  hallway:  — 

44  Don't  make  a  goose  of  yourself,  Humphrey."  Here 
she  appeared,  the  colour  fresh  in  her  cheeks,  her  slender 


THE   REALM  OF  PEGASUS  201 

figure  clad  in  a  fur  which  even  Austen  knew  was  priceless. 
She  sprang  into  the  sleigh,  the  butler,  with  annoying  de 
liberation,  and  with  the  air  of  saying  that  this  was  an 
affair  of  which  he  washed  his  hands,  tucked  in  Mr. 
Putter's  best  robe  about  her  feet,  the  mare  leaped  for 
ward,  and  they  were  off,  out  of  the  circle  and  flying  up 
the  hill  on  the  hard  snow-tracks. 

"Whew!"  exclaimed  Victoria,  "what  a  relief!  Are 
you  staying  in  that  dear  little  house  ?  "  she  asked,  with  a 
glance  at  the  Widow  Peasley's. 

"  Yes,"  said  Austen. 

"  I  wish  I  were." 

He  looked  at  her  shyly.  He  was  not  a  man  to  do  hom 
age  to  material  gods,  but  the  pomp  and  circumstance  with 
which  she  was  surrounded  had  had  a  sobering  effect 
upon  him,  and  added  to  his  sense  of  the  instability  and 
unreality  of  the  present  moment.  He  had  an  almost 
guilty  feeling  of  having  broken  an  unwritten  law,  of 
abducting  a  princess,  and  the  old  Duncan  house  had 
seemed  to  frown  protestingly  that  such  an  act  should  have 
taken  place  under  its  windows.  If  Victoria  had  been  —  to 
him  —  an  ordinary  mortal  in  expensive  furs  instead  of  a 
princess,  he  would  have  snapped  his  fingers  at  the  pomp 
and  circumstance.  These  typified  the  comforts  which,  in 
a  wild  and  forgetful  moment,  he  might  ask  her  to  leave. 
Not  that  he  believed  she  would  leave  them.  He  had 
lived  long  enough  to  know  that  an  interest  by  a  woman  in 
a  man — especially  a  man  beyond  the  beaten  track  of  her 
observation  —  did  not  necessarily  mean  that  she  might 
marry  him  if  he  asked  her.  And  yet  —  oh,  Tantalus  ! — 
here  she  was  beside  him,  for  one  afternoon  again  his  very 
own,  their  two  souls  ringing  with  the  harmony  of  whirling 
worlds  in  sunlit  space.  He  sought  refuge  in  this  thought; 
he  strove,  in  oblivion,  to  drain  the  cup  of  the  hour  of  its 
nectar,  even  as  he  had  done  before.  Generations  of  Puri 
tan  Vanes  (whose  descendant  alone  had  harassed  poor 
Sarah  Austen)  were  in  his  blood  ;  and  there  they  hung 
in  the  long  gallery  of  Time,  mutely  but  sternly  forbidding 
when  he  raised  his  hand  to  the  stem. 


202  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

In  silence  they  reached  the  crest  where  the  little  city 
ended  abruptly  in  view  of  the  paradise  of  the  silent  hills, 
—  his  paradise,  where  there  were  no  palaces  or  thought 
of  palaces.  The  wild  wind  of  the  morning  was  still. 
In  this  realm  at  least,  a  heritage  from  his  mother,  seem 
ingly  untrodden  by  the  foot  of  man,  the  woman  at  his 
side  was  his.  From  Holdfast  over  the  spruces  to  Sawanec 
in  the  blue  distance  he  was  lord,  a  domain  the  wealth  of 
which  could  not  be  reckoned  in  the  coin  of  Midas.  He 
turned  to  her  as  they  flew  down  the  slope,  and  she  averted 
her  face,  perchance  perceiving  in  that  look  a  possession 
from  which  a  woman  shrinks;  and  her  remark,  startlingly 
indicative  of  the  accord  between  them,  lent  a  no  less 
startling  reality  to  the  enchantment. 

"  This  is  your  land,  isn't  it  ?  "  she  said. 

"I  sometimes  feel  as  though  it  were,"  he  answered. 
"  I  was  out  here  this  morning,  when  the  wind  was  at 
play,"  and  he  pointed  with  his  whip  at  a  fantastic  snow 
drift,  "  before  I  saw  you." 

"You  looked  as  though  you  had  come  from  it,"  she 
answered.  "  You  seemed  —  I  suppose  you  will  think  me 
silly  — bat  you  seemed  to  bring  something  of  this  with 
you  into  that  hail.  I  always  think  of  you  as  out  on  the 
hills  and  mountains." 

"  And  you,"  he  said,  "  belong  here,  too." 

She  drew  a  deep  breath. 

"  I  wish  I  did.  But  you  —  you  really  do  belong  here. 
You  seem  to  have  absorbed  all  the  clearness  of  it,  and  the 
strength  and  vigour.  I  was  watching  you  this  morning, 
and  you  were  so  utterly  out  of  place  in  those  surround 
ings."  Victoria  paused,  her  colour  deepening. 

His  blood  kept  pace  with  the  mare's  footsteps,  but  he 
did  not  reply. 

"  What  did  you  think  of  Humphrey's  speech  ?  "  she 
asked,  abruptly  changing  the  subject. 

"  I  thought  it  a  surprisingly  good  one,  —  what  I  heard 
of  it,"  he  answered.  "  That  wasn't  much.  I  didn't  think 
he'd  do  as  well." 

"  Humphrey's  clever  in  a  great  many  ways,"  Victoria   j 


THE  REALM  OF   PEGASUS  203 

agreed.  "  If  he  didn't  have  such  an  impenetrable  conceit, 
he  might  go  far,  because  he  learns  quickly,  and  has  an 
industry  that  is  simply  appalling.  But  he  hasn't  quite 
the  manner  for  politics,  has  he  ?  " 

"  I  think  I  should  call  his  manner  a  drawback,"  said 
Austen,  "though  not  by  any  means  an  insurmountable 
one." 

Victqria  laughed. 

"  The  other  qualities  all  need  to  be  very  great,"  she 
said.  "  He  was  furious  at  me  for  coming  out  this  after 
noon.  He  had  it  all  arranged  to  drive  over  to  the 
Forge,  and  had  an  early  lunch." 

"  And  I,"  said  Austen,  "  have  all  the  more  reason  to  be 
grateful  to  you." 

"  Oh,  if  you  knew  the  favour  you  were  doing  me,"  she 
cried,  "  bringing  me  out  here  where  I  can  breathe.  I 
hope  you  don't  think  I  dislike  Humphrey,"  she  went  on. 
"Of  course,  if  I  did,  I  shouldn't  visit  him.  You  see,  I 
have  known  him  for  so  long." 

"  I  hadn't  a  notion  that  you  disliked  him,"  said  Austen. 
"  I  am  curious  about  his  career ;  that's  one  reason  I  came 
down.  He  somehow  inspires  curiosity." 

"  And  awe,"  she  added.  "  Humphrey's  career  has  all 
the  fascination  of  a  runaway  locomotive.  One  watches  it 
transfixed,  awaiting  the  inevitable  crash." 

Their  eyes  met,  and  they  both  laughed. 

"  It's  no  use  trying  to  be  a  humbug,"  said  Victoria, 
"  I  can't.  And  I  do  like  Humphrey,  in  spite  of  his  career." 

And  they  laughed  again.  The  music  of  the  bells  ran 
faster  and  faster  still,  keeping  time  to  a  wilder  music  of 
the  sunlit  hills  and  sky  ;  nor  was  it  strange  that  her 
voice,  when  she  spoke,  did  not  break  the  spell,  but  laid 
upon  him  a  deeper  sense  of  magic. 

"  This  brings  back  the  fairy  books,"  she  said,  "  and  all 
those  wonderful  and  never-to-be-forgotten  sensations  of 
the  truant,  doesn't  it  ?  You've  been  a  truant  —  haven't 
you  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  he  laughed,  "  I've  been  a  truant,  but  I  never 
quite  realized  the  possibilities  of  the  part — until  to-day." 


204  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

She  was  silent  a  moment,  and  turned  away  her  head, 
surveying  the  landscape  that  fell  away  for  miles  beyond. 

"  When  I  was  a  child,"  she  said,  "  I  used  to  think  that 
by  opening  a  door  I  could  step  into  an  enchanted  realm 
like  this.  Only  I  could  never  find  the  door.  Perhaps," 
she  added,  gayly  pursuing  the  conceit,  "it  was  because 
you  had  the  key,  and  I  didn't  know  you  in  those  days." 
She  gave  him  a  swift,  searching  look,  smiling,  whimsical 
yet  startled,  —  so  elusive  that  the  memory  of  it  afterwards 
was  wont  to  come  and  go  like  a  flash  of  lighto  "  Who 
are  you  ?  "  she  asked. 

His  blood  leaped,  but  he  smiled  in  delighted  under 
standing  of  her  mood.  Sarah  Austen  had  brought  just 
such  a  magic  touch  to  an  excursion,  and  even  at  that 
moment  Austen  found  himself  marvelling  a  little  at  the 
strange  resemblance  between  the  two. 

"  I  am  a  plain  person  whose  ancestors  came  from  a  vil 
lage  called  Camden  Street,"  he  replied.  "  Camden  Street 
is  there,  on  a  shelf  of  the  hills,  and  through  the  arch  of 
its  elms  you  can  look  off  over  the  forests  of  the  lowlands 
until  they  end  in  the  blue  reaches  of  the  ocean,  —  if  you 
could  see  far  enough." 

"  If  you  could  see  far  enough,"  said  Victoria,  uncon 
sciously  repeating  his  words.  "  But  that  doesn't  explain 
you,"  she  exclaimed.  "  You  are  like  nobody  I  ever  met, 
and  you  have  a  supernatural  faculty  of  appearing  sud 
denly,  from  nowhere,  and  whisking  me  away  like  the  lady 
in  the  fable,  out  of  myself  and  the  world  I  live  in.  If  I 
become  so  inordinately  grateful  as  to  talk  nonsense,  you 
mustn't  blame  me.  Try  not  to  think  of  the  number  of 
times  I've  seen  you,  or  when  it  was  wre  first  met." 

"  I  believe,"  said  Austen,  gravely,  "  it  was  when  a  mam 
moth  beast  had  his  cave  on  Holdfast,  and  the  valleys  were 
covered  with  cocoanut-palms." 

"  And  you  appeared  suddenly  then,  too,  and  rescued 
me.  You  have  always  been  uniformly  kind,"  she  said, 
"but  —  a  little  intangible." 

"  A  myth,"  he  suggested,  "  with  neither  height,  breadth, 
nor  thickness." 


THE   REALM   OF  PEGASUS  205 

"  You  have  height  and  breadth,"  she  answered,  measur 
ing  him  swiftly  with  her  eye;  "  I  am  not  sure  about  the 
thickness.  Perhaps.  What  I  mean  to  say  is,  that  you 
seem  to  be  a  person  in  the  world,  but  not  of  it.  Your 
exits  and  entrances  are  too  mysterious,  and  then  you  carry 
me  out  of  it,  —  although  I  invite  myself,  which  is  not  at 
all  proper." 

44 1  came  down  here  to  see  you,"  he  said,  and  took  a 
firmer  grip  on  the  reins.  "  I  exist  to  that  extent." 

"  That's  unworthy  of  you,"  she  cried.  "  I  don't  believe 
you  would  have  known  I  was  here  unless  you  had  caught 
sight  of  me." 

"  I  should  have  known  it,"  he  said. 

"How?" 

ct  Because  I  heard  you  playing.  I  am  sure  it  was  you 
playing." 

"  Yes,  it  was  I,"  she  answered  simply,  "  but  I  did  not 
know  that  —  you  heard.  Where  were  you  ?  " 

"I  suppose,"  he  replied,  "a  sane  witness  would  have 
testified  that  I  was  in  the  street  —  one  of  those  partial  and 
material  truths  which  are  so  misleading." 

She  laughed  again,  joyously. 

"  Seriously,  why  did  you  come  down  here  ? "  she  in 
sisted.  "I  am  not  so  absorbed  in  Humphrey's  career  that  I 
cannot  take  an  interest  in  yours.  In  fact,  yours  interests 
me  more,  because  it  is  more  mysterious.  Humphrey's," 
she  added,  laughing,  "is  charted  from  day  to  day,  and 
announced  in  bulletins.  He  is  more  generous  to  his 
friends  than  —  you." 

"  I  have  nothing  to  chart,"  said  Austen,  "  except  such 
pilgrimages  as  this,  —  and  these,  after  all,  are  unchartable. 
Your  friend,  Mr.  Crewe,  on  the  other  hand,  is  well  away 
on  his  voyage  after  the  Golden  Fleece.  I  hope  he  is  pro 
vided  with  a  Lynceus." 

She  was  silent  for  a  long  time,  but  he  was  feverishly 
conscious  of  her  gaze  upon  him,  and  did  not  dare  to  turn 
his  eyes  to  hers.  The  look  in  them  he  beheld  without  the 
aid  of  physical  vision,  and  in  that  look  was  the  world-old 
riddle  of  her  sex  typified  in  the  image  on  the  African 


206  MR.   CREWE'S  CAREER 

desert  —  which  Napoleon  had  tried  to  read,  and  failed. 
And  while  wisdom  was  in  the  look,  there  was  in  it  like 
wise  the  eternal  questioning  of  a  fate  quite  as  inscrutable, 
against  which  wisdom  would  avail  nothing.  It  was  that 
look  which,  for  Austen,  revealed  in  her  in  their  infinite 
variety  all  women  who  had  lived;  those  who  could  resist, 
and  those  who  could  yield,  and  yielding  all,  bestow  a  gift 
which  left  them  still  priceless;  those  to  whom  sorrow 
might  bring  sadness,  and  knowledge  mourning,  and  yet 
could  rob  them  of  no  jot  of  sweetness.  And  knowing 
this,  he  knew  that  to  gain  her  now  (could  such  a  high 
prize  be  gained!)  would  be  to  lose  her.  If  he  were  any 
thing  to  her  (realize  it  or  not  as  she  might),  it  was  because 
he  found  strength  to  resist  this  greatest  temptation  of  his 
life.  Yield,  and  his  guerdon  was  lost,  and  he  would  be 
Austen  Vane  no  longer — yield,  and  his  right  to  act,  which 
would  make  him  of  value  in  her  eyes  as  well  as  in  his  own, 
was  gone  forever. 

Well  he  knew  what  the  question  in  her  eyes  meant  — 
or  something  of  what  it  meant,  so  inexplicably  is  the  soul 
of  woman  linked  to  events.  Ho  had  pondered  often  on 
that  which  she  had  asked  him  when  he  had  brought  her 
home  over  the  hills  in  the  autumn  twilight.  He  remem 
bered  her  words,  and  the  very  inflection  of  her  voice. 
"  Then  you  won't  tell  me  ?  "  How  could  he  tell  her  ? 
He  became  aware  that  she  was  speaking  now,  in  an  even 
tone. 

"I  had  an  odd  experience  this  morning,  when  I  was 
waiting  for  Mrs.  Pomfret  outside  the  state-house,"  she  said. 
"A  man  was  standing  looking  up  at  the  statue  of  the 
patriot  with  a  strange,  rapt  expression  on  his  face,  • —  such 
a  good  face,  —  and  he  was  so  big  and  honest  and  uncom 
promising  I  wanted  to  talk  to  him.  I  didn't  realize  that 
I  was  staring  at  him  so  hard,  because  I  was  trying  to 
remember  where  I  had  seen  him  before,  —  and  then  I 
remembered  suddenly  that  it  was  with  you." 

"  With  me  ?  "  Austen  repeated. 

"  You  were  standing  with  him,  in  front  of  the  little 
house,  when  I  saw  you  yesterday.  His  name  was  Red- 


THE   REALM   OF  PEGASUS  207 

brook.  It  appears  that  he  had  seen  me,"  Victoria  replied, 
"  when  I  went  to  Mercer  to  call  on  Zeb  Header.  And  he 
asked  me  if  I  knew  you." 

"  Of  course  you  denied  it,"  said  Austen. 

"  I  couldn't,  very  well,"  laughed  Victoria,  "  because  you 
had  confessed  to  the  acquaintance  first." 

"  He  merely  wished  to  have  the  fact  corroborated.  Mr. 
Redbrook  is  a  man  who  likes  to  be  sure  of  his  ground." 

"  He  told  me  a  very  interesting  thing  about  you,"  she 
continued  slowly,  with  her  eye  upon  Austen's  profile. 
"  He  said  that  a  great  many  men  wanted  you  to  be  their 
candidate  for  governor  of  the  State,  —  more  than  you  had 
any  idea  of, — and  that  you  wouldn't  consent.  Mr.  Red- 
brook  grew  so  enthusiastic  that  he  forgot,  for  the  moment, 
my — -relationship  to  the  railroad.  He  is  not  the  only 
person  with  whom  I  have  talked  who  has  —  forgotten  it, 
or  hasn't  known  of  it." 

Austen  was  silent. 

«  Why  won't  you  be  a  candidate,"  she  asked,  in  a  low 
voice,  "  if  such  men  as  that  want  you  ?  " 

"  I  am  afraid  Mr.  Redbrook  exaggerates,"  he  said. 
"  The  popular  demand  of  which  he  spoke  is  rather  mythi 
cal.  And  I  should  be  inclined  to  accuse  him,  too,  of  a 
friendly  attempt  to  install  me  in  your  good  graces." 

"  No,"  answered  Victoria,  smiling,  with  serious  eyes,  "  I 
won't  be  put  off  that  way.  Mr.  Redbrook  isn't  the  kind 
of  man  that  exaggerates  —  I've  seen  enough  of  his  type  to 
know  that.  And  he  told  me  about  your  —  reception  last 
night  at  the  Widow  Peasley's.  You  wouldn't  have  told 
me,"  she  added  reproachfully. 

He  laughed. 

"  It  was  scarcely  a  subject  I  could  have  ventured,"  he 
said. 

"  But  I  asked  you,"  she  objected.  "  Now  tell  me,  why 
did  you  refuse  to  be  their  candidate  ?  It  wasn't  because 
you  were  not  likely  to  get  elected,  was  it  ?  " 

He  permitted  himself  a  glance  which  was  a  tribute  of 
admiration  —  a  glance  which  she  returned  steadfastly. 
"It  isn't  likely  that  I  should  have  been  elected,"  he 


208  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

answered,  "but  you  are  right  —  that  is  not  the  reason  I 
refused." 

"  I  thought  not,"  she  said,  "  I  did  not  believe  you  were 
the  kind  of  man  to  refuse  for  that  reason.  And  you  would 
have  been  elected." 

"  What  makes  you  think  so  ?  "  he  asked  curiously. 

"  I  have  been  thinking  since  I  saw  you  last  —  yes,  and 
I  have  been  making  inquiries.  I  have  been  trying  to  find 
out  things  —  which  you  will  not  tell  me."  She  paused, 
with  a  little  catch  of  her  breath,  and  went  on  again.  "  Do 
you  believe  I  came  all  the  way  up  here  just  to  hear  Hum 
phrey  Ore  we  make  a  speech  and  to  drive  with  him  in  a 
high  sleigh  and  listen  to  him  talk  about  his  career  ?  When 
serious  men  of  the  people  like  Mr.  Redbrook  and  that  nice 
Mr.  Jenney  at  Leith  and  a  lot  of  others  who  do  not  ordi 
narily  care  for  politics  are  thinking  and  indignant,  I  have 
come  to  the  conclusion  there  must  be  a  cause  for  it.  They 
say  that  the  railroad  governs  them  through  disreputable 
politicians,  —  and  I  —  I  am  beginning  to  believe  it  is 
true.  I  have  had  some  of  the  politicians  pointed  out  to 
me  in  the  Legislature,  and  they  look  like  it." 

Austen  did  not  smile.  She  was  speaking  quietly,  but 
he  saw  that  she  was  breathing  deeply,  and  he  knew  that 
she  possessed  a  courage  which  went  far  beyond  that  of 
most  women,  and  an  insight  into  life  and  affairs. 

"  I  am  going  to  find  out,"  she  said,  "  whether  these 
things  are  true." 

"  And  then  ?  "  he  asked  involuntarily. 

"If  they  are  true,  I  am  going  to  tell  my  father  about 
them,  and  ask  him  to  investigate.  Nobody  seems  to  have 
the  courage  to  go  to  him." 

Austen  did  not  answer.  He  felt  the  implication;  he 
knew  that,  without  realizing  his  difficulties,  and  carried 
on  by  a  feeling  long  pent  up,  she  had  measured  him  un 
justly,  and  yet  he  felt  no  resentment,  and  no  shock. 
Perhaps  he  might  feel  that  later.  Now  he  was  filled  only 
with  a  sympathy  that  was  yet  another  common  bond  be 
tween  them.  Suppose  she  did  find  out  ?  He  knew  that 
she  would  not  falter  until  she  came  to  the  end  of  her  in- 


THE   REALM   OF   PEGASUS  209 

vestigation,  to  the  revelation  of  Mr.  Flint's  code  of  busi 
ness  ethics.  Should  the  revolt  take  place,  she  would  be 
satisfied  with  nothing  less  than  the  truth,  even  as  he, 
Austen  Vane,  had  not  been  satisfied.  And  he  thought 
of  the  life-long  faith  that  would  be  broken  thereby. 

They  had  made  the  circle  of  the  hills,  and  the  sparkling 
lights  of  the  city  lay  under  them  like  blue  diamond  points 
in  the  twilight  of  the  valley.  The  crests  behind  them 
deepened  in  purple  as  the  saffron  faded  in  the  west,  and 
a  gossamer  cloud  of  Tyrian  dye  floated  over  Holdfast.  In 
silence  they  turned  for  a  last  lingering  look,  arid  in  silence 
went  down  the  slope  into  the  world  again,  and  through 
the  streets  to  the  driveway  of  the  Duncan  house.  It  was 
only  when  they  had  stopped  before  the  door  that  she 
trusted  herself  to  speak. 

"  I  ought  not  to  have  said  what  I  did,"  she  began,  in  a 
low  voice ;  "  I  didn't  realize  —  but  I  cannot  understand 
you." 

"  You  have  said  nothing  which  you  need  ever  have 
cause  to  regret,"  he  replied.  He  was  too  great  for  ex 
cuses,  too  great  for  any  sorrow  save  what  she  herself 
might  feel,  as  great  as  the  silent  hills  from  which  he 
came. 

She  stood  for  a  moment  on  the  edge  of  the  steps,  her 
eyes  lustrous,  —  yet  gazing  into  his  with  a  searching, 
troubled  look  that  haunted  him  for  many  days.  But  her 
self-command  was  unshaken,  her  power  to  control  speech 
was  the  equal  of  his.  And  this  power  of  silence  in  her  — 
revealed  in  such  instants  —  was  her  greatest  fascination 
for  Austen,  the  thing  which  set  her  apart  among  women; 
which  embodied  for  him  the  whole  charm  and  mystery  of 
her  sex. 

"  Good-by,"  she  said  simply. 

"  Good-by,"  he  said,  and  seized  her  hand  —  and  drove 
away. 

Without  ringing  the  bell  Victoria  slipped  into  the  hall, 
—  for  the  latch  was  not  caught,  —  and  her  first  impulse 
was  to  run  up  the  staircase  to  her  room.  But  she  heard 
Mrs.  Pomfret's  voice  on  the  landing  above  and  fled,  as  to 


210  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

a  refuge,  into  the  dark  drawing-room,  where  she  stood  for 
a  moment  motionless,  listening  for  the  sound  of  his  sleigh- 
bells  as  they  fainted  on  the  winter's  night.  Then  she 
seated  herself  to  think,  if  she  could,  though  it  is  difficult 
to  think  when  one's  heart  is  beating  a  little  wildly.  It 
was  Victoria's  nature  to  think  things  out.  For  the  first 
time  in  her  life  she  knew  sorrow,  and  it  made  it  worse 
that  that  sorrow  was  indefinable.  She  felt  an  accountable 
attraction  for  this  man  who  had  so  strangely  come  into 
her  life,  whose  problems  had  suddenly  become  her  prob 
lems.  But  she  did  not  connect  the  attraction  for  Austen 
Vane  with  her  misery.  She  recalled  him  as  he  had  left 
her,  big  and  strong  and  sorrowful,  with  a  yearning  look 
that  was  undisguised,  and  while  her  faith  in  him  came- 
surging  back  again,  she  could  not  understand. 

Gradually  she  became  aware  of  men's  voices,  and  turned 
with  a  start  to  perceive  that  the  door  of  the  library  was 
open,  and  that  Humphrey  Ore  we  and  another  were  stand 
ing  in  the  doorway  against  the  light.  With  an  effort  of 
memory  she  identified  the  other  man  as  the  Mr.  Tooting 
who  had  made  himself  so  useful  at  Mr.  Crewe's  garden- 
party. 

"  I  told  you  I  could  make  you  governor,  Mr.  Crewe," 
Mr.  Tooting  was  saying.  u  Say,  why  do  you  think  the 
Northeastern  crowd  —  why  do  you  think  Hilary  Vane 
is  pushing  your  bills  down  the  sidings  ?  I'll  tell  you, 
because  they  know  you're  a  man  of  ability,  and  they're 
afraid  of  you,  and  they  know  you're  a  gentleman,  and 
can't  be  trusted  with  their  deals,  so  they  just  shunted 
you  off  at  Kodunk  with  a  jolly  about  sendin'  you  to  Con 
gress  if  you  made  a  hit  on  a  national  speech.  I've  been 
in  the  business  a  good  many  years,  and  I've  seen  and  done 
some  things  for  the  Northeastern  that  stick  in  my  throat " 
—  (at  this  point  Victoria  sat  down  again  and  gripped  the 
arms  of  her  chair).  "I  don't  like  to  see  a  decent  man 
sawbucked  the  way  they're  teeterin'  you,  Mr.  Crewe.  I 
know  what  I'm  talkin'  about,  and  I  tell  you  that  Ridout 
and  Jake  Botcher  and  Brush  Bascom  haven't  any  more 
notion  of  lettin'  your  bills  out  of  committee  than  they 


THE   REALM   OF   PEGASUS  211 

have  Gaylord's.  Why?  Because  they've  got  orders 
not  to." 

"You're  making  some  serious  charges,  Mr.  Tooting," 
said  Mr.  Crewe. 

"  And  what's  more,  I  can  prove  'em.  You  know  your 
self  that  anybody  who  talks  against  the  Northeastern  is 
booted  down  and  blacklisted.  You've  seen  that,  haven't 
you  ?  " 

"I  have  observed,"  said  Mr.  Crewe,  "that  things  do 
not  seem  to  be  as  they  should  in  a  free  government." 

"  And  it  makes  your  blood  boil  as  an  American  citizen, 
don't  it?  It  does  mine,"  said  Mr.  Tooting,  with  fine 
indignation.  "  I  was  a  poor  boy,  and  had  to  earn  my 
living,  but  I've  made  up  my  mind  I've  worn  the  collar 
long  enough  —  if  I  have  to  break  rocks.  And  I  want  to 
repeat  what  I  said  a  little  while  ago,"  he  added,  weaving 
his  thumb  into  Mr.  Crewe's  buttonhole;  "I  know  a  thing 
or  two,  and  I've  got  some  brains,  as  they  know,  and  I  can 
make  you  governor  of  this  State  if  you'll  only  say  the 
word.  It's  a  cinch." 

Victoria  started  to  rise  once  more,  and  realized  that  to 
escape  she  would  have  to  cross  the  room  directly  in  front 
of  the  two  men.  She  remained  sitting  where  she  was  in 
a  fearful  fascination,  awaiting  Humphrey  Crewe's  answer. 
There  was  a  moment's  pause. 

"  I  believe  you  made  the  remark,  Mr.  Tooting,"  he 
said,  "  that  in  your  opinion  there  is  enough  anti-railroad 
sentiment  in  the  House  to  pass  any  bill  which  the  railroad 
opposes." 

"If  a  leader  was  to  get  up  there,  like  you,  with  the 
arguments  I  could  put  into  his  hands,  they  would 
make  the  committee  discharge  that  Pingsquit  bill  of 
the  Gaylords',  and  pass  it." 

"  On  what  do  you  base  your  opinion  ? "  asked  Mr. 
Crewe. 

"  Well,"  said  Mr.  Tooting,  "  I  guess  I'm  a  pretty  shrewd 
observer  and  have  had  practice  enough.  But  you  know 
Austen  Vane,  don't  you  ?  " 

Victoria  held  her  breath. 


212  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

"I've  a  slight  acquaintance  with  him,"  replied  Mr. 
Crewe;  "I've  helped  him  along  in  one  or  two  minor  legal 
matters.  He  seems  to  be  a  little  —  well,  pushing,  you 
might  say." 

"I  want  to  tell  you  one  thing  about  Austen,"  con 
tinued  Mr.  Tooting.  "  Although  I  don't  stand  much  for 
old  Hilary,  I'd  take  Austen  Vane's  opinion  on  most 
things  as  soon  as  that  of  any  man  in  the  State.  If 
he  only  had  some  sense  about  himself,  he  could  be  gov 
ernor  next  time  —  there's  a  whole  lot  that  wants  him.  I 
happen  to  know  some  of  'em  offered  it  to  him  last 
night." 

"Austen  Vane  governor!  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Crewe,  with 
a  politely  deprecating  laugh. 

"It  may  sound  funny,"  said  Mr.  Tooting,  stoutly;  "I 
never  understood  what  he  has  about  him.  He's  never 
done  anything  but  buck  old  Hilary  in  that  damage  case 
and  send  back  a  retainer  pass  to  old  Flint,  but  he's  got 
something  in  his  make-up  that  gets  under  your  belt,  and  a 
good  many  of  these  old  hayseeds'll  eat  out  of  his  hand, 
right  now.  Well,  I  don't  want  this  to  go  any  farther,  — 
you're  a  gentleman,  —  but  Austen  came  down  here  yester 
day  and  had  the  whole  thing  sized  up  by  last  night.  Old 
Hilary  thought  the  Gaylords  sent  for  him  to  lobby  their 
bill  through.  They  may  have  sent  for  him,  all  right,  but 
he  wouldn't  lobby  for  'em.  He  could  have  made  a  pile  of 
money  out  of  'em.  Austen  doesn't  seem  to  care  about 
money—  he's  queer.  He  says  as  long  as  he  has  a  horse 
and  a  few  books  and  a  couple  of  sandwiches  a  day  he's  all 
right.  Hilary  had  him  up  in  Number  Seven  tryin'  to 
find  out  what  he  came  down  for,  and  Austen  told  him 
pretty  straight  —  what  he  didn't  tell  the  Gaylords,  either. 
He  kind  of  likes  old  Hilary, — because  he's  his  father,  I 
guess,  —  and  he  said  there  were  enough  men  in  that  House 
to  turn  Hilary  and  his  crowd  upside  down.  That's  how  I 
know  for  certain.  If  Austen  Vane  said  it,  I'll  borrow 
money  to  bet  on  it,"  declared  Mr.  Tooting. 

"  You  don't  think  young  Vane  is  going  to  get  into  the 
race  ?  "  queried  Mr.  Crewe. 


THE   REALM  OF  PEGASUS  213 

"No,"  said  Mr.  Tooting,  somewhat  contemptuously. 
"No,  I  tell  you  he  hasn't  got  that  kind  of  sense.  He 
never  took  any  trouble  to  get  ahead,  and  I  guess  he's 
sort  of  sensitive  about  old  Hilary.  It'd  make  a  good 
deal  of  a  scandal  in  the  family,  with  Austen  as  an  anti- 
railroad  candidate."  Mr.  Tooting  lowered  his  voice  to  a 
tone  that  was  caressingly  confidential.  "  I  tell  you,  and 
you  sleep  on  it,  a  man  of  your  brains  and  money  can't 
lose.  It's  a  chance  in  a  million,  and  when  you  win 
you've  got  this  little  State  tight  in  your  pocket,  and  a 
desk  in  the  millionaire's  club  at  Washington.  Well,  so 
long,"  said  Mr.  Tooting,  uyou  think  that  over." 

"  You  have,  at  least,  put  things  in  a  new  and  interest 
ing  light,"  said  Mr.  Crewe.  "  I  will  try  to  decide  what 
my  duty  is." 

"  Your  duty's  pretty  plain  to  me,"  said  Mr.  Tooting. 
"  If  I  had  money,  I'd  know  that  the  best  way  to  use  it  is 
for  the  people,  —  ain't  that  so  ?  " 

"  In  the  meantime,"  Mr.  Crewe  continued,  "  you  may 
drop  in  to-morrow  at  three." 

"  You'd  better  make  it  to-morrow  night,  hadn't  you  ?  " 
said  Mr.  Tooting,  significantly.  "There  ain't  any  back 
way  to  this  house." 

"  As  you  choose,"  said  Mr.  Crewe. 

They  passed  within  a  few  feet  of  Victoria,  who  resisted 
an  almost  uncontrollable  impulse  to  rise  and  confront 
them.  The  words  given  her  to  use  were  surging  in  her 
brain,  and  yet  she  withheld  them  —  why,  she  knew  not. 
Perhaps  it  was  because,  after  such  communion  as  the 
afternoon  had  brought,  the  repulsion  she  felt  for  Mr. 
Tooting  aided  her  to  sit  where  she  was.  She  heard 
the  outside  door  open  and  close,  and  she  saw  Humphrey 
Crewe  walk  past  her  again  into  his  library,  and  that  door 
closed,  and  she  was  left  in  darkness.  Darkness  indeed 
for  Victoria,  who  throughout  her  life  had  lived  in  light 
alone  ;  in  the  light  she  had  shed,  and  the  light  which  she 
had  kindled  in  others.  With  a  throb  which  was  an 
exquisite  pain,  she  understood  now  the  compassion  in , 
Austen's  eyes,  and  she  saw  so  simply  and  so  clearly  why 


214  MR.   CREWE'S  CAREER 

he  had  not  told  her  that  her  face  burned  with  the  shame 
of  her  demand.  The  one  of  all  others  to  whom  she 
could  go  in  this  trouble  was  denied  her,  and  his  lips  were 
sealed,  who  would  have  spoken  honestly  and  without 
prejudice.  She  rose  and  went  quietly  out  into  the  biting 
winter  night,  and  stood  staring  through  the  trees  at  the 
friendly  reddened  windows  of  the  little  cottage  across 
the  way  with  a  yearning  that  passed  her  understanding. 
Out  of  those  windows,  to  Victoria,  shone  honesty  and 
truth,  and  the  peace  which  these  alone  may  bring. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

THE   DESCENDANTS   OF   HORATIUS 

So  the  twenty  honourable  members  of  the  State  Senate 
had  been  dubbed  by  the  man  who  had  a  sense  of  humour 
and  a  smattering  of  the  classics,  because  they  had  been 
put  there  to  hold  the  bridge  against  the  Tarquins  who 
would  invade  the  dominions  of  the  Northeastern.  Twenty 
picked  men,  and  true  they  were  indeed,  but  a  better  name 
for  their  body  would  have  been  the  Life  Guard  of  the 
Sovereign.  The  five  hundred  far  below  them  might  rage 
and  at  times  revolt,  but  the  twenty  in  their  shining  armour 
stood  undaunted  above  the  vulnerable  ground  and  smiled 
grimly  at  the  mob.  The  citadel  was  safe. 

The  real  Horatius  of  the  stirring  time  of  which  we 
write  was  that  old  and  tried  veteran,  the  Honourable 
Brush  Bascom ;  and  Spurius  Lartius  might  be  typified  by 
the  indomitable  warrior,  the  Honourable  Jacob  Botcher ; 
while  the  Honourable  Samuel  Doby  of  Hale,  Speaker  of 
the  House,  was  unquestionably  Herminius.  How  the 
three  held  the  bridge  that  year  will  be  told  in  as  few  and 
as  stirring  words  as  possible.  A  greater  than  Porsena 
confronted  them,  and  well  it  was  for  them,  and  for  the 
Empire,  that  the  Body  Guard  of  the  Twenty  stood  be 
hind  them. 

fl  Lars  Porsena  of  Clusium, 
By  the  Nine  Gods  he  swore." 

The  morning  after  the  State  Tribune  had  printed  that 
memorable  speech  on  national  affairs  —  statistics  and  all, 
with  an  editorial  which  gave  every  evidence  of  Mr.  Peter 
Pardriff's  best  sparkle  —  Mr.  Crewe  appeared  on  the  floor 
of  the  House  with  a  new  look  in  his  eye  which  made  dis 
cerning  men  turn  and  stare  at  him.  It  was  the  look  of 

215 


216  MR.   CREWE'S  CAREER 

the  great  when  they  are  justly  indignant,  when  their  trust 
—  nobly  given  —  has  been  betrayed.  Washington,  for 
instance,  must  have  had  just  such  a  look  on  the  battle 
field  of  Trenton.  The  Honourable  Jacob  Botcher,  press 
ing  forward  as  fast  as  his  bulk  would  permit  and  with  the 
newspaper  in  his  hand,  was  met  by  a  calm  and  distant 
manner  which  discomposed  that  statesman,  and  froze  his 
stout  index  finger  to  the  editorial  which  "perhaps  Mr. 
Ore  we  had  not  seen." 

Mr.  Crewe  was  too  big  for  resentment,  but  ne  knew 
how  to  meet  people  who  didn't  measure  up  to  his  stand 
ards.  Yes,  he  had  seen  the  editorial,  and  the  weather 
still  continued  fine.  The  Honourable  Jacob  was  left  be 
hind  scratching  his  head,  and  presently  he  sought  a  front 
seat  in  which  to  think,  the  back  ones  not  giving  him  room 
enough.  The  brisk,  cheery  greeting  of  the  Honourable 
Brush  Bascom  fared  no  better,  but  Mr.  Bascom  was  a 
philosopher,  and  did  not  disturb  the  great  when  their 
minds  were  revolving  on  national  affairs  and  the  welfare 
of  humanity  in  general.  Mr.  Speaker  Doby  and  Mr. 
Ridout  got  but  abstract  salutations  also,  and  were  cor 
respondingly  dismayed. 

That  day,  and  for  many  da}^s  thereafter,  Mr.  Crewe 
spent  some  time  —  as  was  entirely  proper  —  among  the 
back  seats,  making  the  acquaintance  of  his  humbler  fellow- 
members  of  the  submerged  four  hundred  and  seventy.  He 
had  too  long  neglected  this,  so  he  told  them,  but  his  mind 
had  been  on  high  matters.  During  many  of  his  mature 
years  he  had  pondered  as  to  how  the  welfare  of  community 
and  State  could  be  improved,  and  the  result  of  that  thought 
was  embodied  in  the  bills  of  which  they  had  doubtless  re 
ceived  copies.  If  not,  down  went  their  names  in  a  leather- 
bound  memorandum,  and  they  got  copies  in  the  next 
mails. 

The  delight  of  some  of  the  simple  rustic  members  at 
this  unbending  of  a  great  man  may  be  imagined.  To  tell 
the  truth,  they  had  looked  with  little  favour  upon  the  inti 
macy  which  had  sprung  up  between  him  and  those  tyran 
nical  potentates,  Messrs.  Botcher  and  Bascom,  and  many 


THE   DESCENDANTS   OF   HORATIUS          217 

who  had  the  courage  of  their  convictions  expressed  them 
very  frankly.  Messrs.  Botcher  and  Bascom  were,  when  all 
was  said,  mere  train  despatchers  of  the  Northeastern,  who 
might  some  day  bring  on  a  wreck  the  like  of  which  the 
State  had  never  seen.  Mr.  Crewe  was  in  a  receptive 
mood;  indeed  his  nature,  like  Nebuchadnezzar's,  seemed 
to  have  experienced  some  indefinable  and  vital  change. 
Was  this  the  Mr.  Crewe  the  humble  rural  members  had 
pictured  to  themselves?  Was  this  the  Mr.  Crewe  who, 
at  the  beginning  of  the  session,  had  told  them  roundly 
it  was  their  duty  to  vote  for  his  bills  ? 

Mr.  Crewe  was  surprised,  he  said,  to  hear  so  much 
sentiment  against  the  Northeastern  Railroads.  Yes,  he 
was  a  friend  of  Mr.  Flint's  —  they  were  neighbours  in 
the  country.  But  if  these  charges  had  any  foundation 
whatever,  they  ought  to  be  looked  into  —  they  ought  to 
be  taken  up.  A  sovereign  people  should  not  be  governed 
by  a  railroad.  Mr.  Crewe  was  a  business  man,  but  first  of 
all  he  was  a  citizen  ;  as  a  business  man  he  did  not  intend 
to  talk  vaguely,  but  to  investigate  thoroughly.  And 
then,  if  charges  should  be  made,  he  would  make  them 
specifically,  and  as  a  citizen  contend  for  the  right. 

It  is  difficult  to  restrain  one's  pen  in  dealing  with  a 
hero,  but  it  is  not  too  much  to  say  that  Mr.  Crewe  im 
pressed  many  of  the  country  members  favourably.  How, 
indeed,  could  he  help  doing  so  ?  His  language  was 
moderate,  his  poise  that  of  a  man  of  affairs,  and  there  was 
a  look  in  his  eye  and  a  determination  in  his  manner  that 
boded  ill  for  the  Northeastern  if  he  should,  after  weighing 
the  facts,  decide  that  they  ought  to  be  flagellated.  His 
friendship  with  Mr.  Flint  and  the  suspicion  that  he 
might  be  inclined  to  fancy  Mr.  Flint's  daughter  would 
not  influence  him  in  the  least;  of  that  many  of  his  hearers 
were  sure.  Not  a  few  of  them  were  invited  to  dinner  at 
the  Duncan  house,  and  shown  the  library  and  the  conserv 
atory. 

"  Walk  right  in,"  said  Mr.  Crewe.  "  You  can't  hurt  the 
flowers  unless  you  bump  against  the  pots,  and  if  you 
walk  straight  you  can't  do  that.  I  brought  the  plants 


218  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

down  from  my  own  hothouse  in  Leith.  Those  are  French 
geraniums  —  very  hard  to  get.  They're  double,  you  see, 
and  don't  look  like  the  scrawny  things  you  see  in  this 
country.  Yes  (with  a  good-natured  smile),  I  guess  they 
do  cost  something.  I'll  ask  my  secretary  what  I  paid 
for  that  plant.  Is  that  dinner,  Waters  ?  Come  right 
in,  gentlemen,  we  won't  wait  for  ceremony." 

Whereupon  the  delegation  would  file  into  the  dining 
room  in  solemn  silence  behind  the  imperturbable  Waters, 
with  dubious  glances  at  Mr.  Waters'  imperturbable  under 
study  in  green  and  buff  and  silver  buttons.  Honest  red 
hands,  used  to  milking  at  five  o'clock  in  the  morning,  and 
hands  not  so  red  that  measured  dry  goods  over  rural 
counters  for  insistent  female  customers  fingered  in  some 
dismay  what  seemed  an  inexplicable  array  of  table  furni 
ture. 

"  It  don't  make  any  difference  which  fork  you  take," 
said  the  good-natured  owner  of  this  palace  of  luxury, 
"  only  I  shouldn't  advise  you  to  use  one  for  the  soup  — 
you  wouldn't  get  much  of  it  —  what?  Yes,  this  house 
suits  me  very  well.  It  was  built  by  old  man  Duncan,  you 
know,  and  his  daughter  married  an  Italian  nobleman  and 
lives  in  a  castle.  The  State  ought  to  buy  the  house  for 
a  governor's  mansion.  It's  a  disgrace  that  our  governor 
should  have  to  live  in  the  Pelican  Hotel,  and  especially  in 
a  room  next  to  that  of  the  chief  counsel  of  the  Northeast 
ern,  with  only  a  curtain  and  a  couple  of  folding  doors 
between." 

"That's  right,"  declared  an  up-state  member;  "the 
governor  hadn't  ought  to  live  next  to  Vane.  But  as  to 
gettin'  him  a  house  like  this  —  kind  of  royal,  ain't  it  ? 
Couldn't  do  justice  to  it  on  fifteen  hundred  a  year,  could 
he?  Costs  you  a  little  mite  more  to  live  in  it,  don't 
it?" 

"  It  costs  me  something,"  Mr.  Crewe  admitted  modestly. 
"  But  then  our  governors  are  all  rich  men,  or  they  couldn't 
afford  to  pay  the  Northeastern  lobby  campaign  expenses. 
Not  that  I  believe  in  a  rich  man  for  governor,  gentlemen. 
My  contention  is  that  the  State  should  pay  its  governors  a 


THE   DESCENDANTS   OF   HORATIUS          219 

sufficient  salary  to  make  them  independent  of  the  North 
eastern,  a  salary  on  which  they  can  live  as  befits  a  chief 
executive." 

These  sentiments,  and  others  of  a  similar  tenor,  were 
usually  received  in  silence  by  his  rural  guests,  but  Mr. 
Crewe,  being  a  broad-minded  man  of  human  understanding, 
did  not  set  down  their  lack  of  response  to  surliness  or  sus 
picion  of  a  motive,  but  rather  to  the  innate  caution  of  the 
hill  farmer  ;  andAoubtless,  also,  to  a  natural  awe  of  the 
unwonted  splendour  with  which  they  were  surrounded. 
In  a  brief  time  hip  kindly  hospitality  became  a  byword  in 
the  capital,  and  fabulous  accounts  of  it  were  carried  home 
at  week  ends  to  toiling  wives  and  sons  and  daughters,  to 
incredulous  citizens  who  sat  on  cracker  boxes  and  found 
the  Sunday  papers  stale  and  unprofitable  for  weeks  there 
after.  The  geraniums  —  the  price  of  which  Mr.  Crewe 
had  forgotten  to  find  out  —  were  appraised  at  four  figures, 
and  the  conservatory  became  the  hanging  gardens  of  Bab 
ylon  under  glass  ;  the  functionary  in  buff  and  green  and 
silver  buttons  and  his  duties  furnished  the  subject  for  long 
and  heated  arguments.  And  incidentally  everybody  who 
had  a  farm  for  sale  wrote  to  Mr.  Crewe.  Since  the  motives 
of  every  philanthropist  and  public  benefactor  are  inevitably 
challenged  by  cynics,  there  were  many  who  asked  the 
question,  "  What  did  Mr.  Crewe  want  ?  "  It  is  painful 
even  to  touch  upon  this  when  we  know  that  Mr.  Crewe 
was  merely  doing  his  duty  as  he  saw  it,  when  we  know 
that  he  spelled  the  word,  mentally,  with  a  capital  D. 

There  were  many,  too,  who  remarked  that  a  touching 
friendship  in  the  front  seats  (formerly  plainly  visible  to 
the  naked  eye  from  the  back)  had  been  strained  —  at  least. 
Mr.  Crewe  still  sat  with  Mr.  Botcher  and  Mr.  Bascom,  but 
he  was  not  a  man  to  pretend  after  the  fires  had  cooled. 
The  Honourable  Jacob  Botcher,  with  his  eyes  shut  so  tight 
that  his  honest  face  wore  an  expression  of  agony,  seemed 
to  pray  every  morning  for  the  renewal  of  that  friendship 
when  the  chaplain  begged  the  Lord  to  guide  the  Legislature 
into  the  paths  of  truth  ;  and  the  Honourable  Brush  Bascom 
wore  an  air  of  resignation  which  was  painful  to  see.  Con- 


220  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

versation  languished,  and  the  cosey  and  familiar  haunts  of 
the  Pelican  knew  Mr.  Crewe  no  more. 

Mr.  Crewe  never  forgot,  of  course,  that  he  was  a  gentle 
man,  and  a  certain  polite  intercourse  existed.  During 
the  sessions,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  Mr.  Bascom  had  many 
things  to  whisper  to  Mr.  Botcher,  and  Mr.  Botcher  to  Mr. 
Bascom,  and  in  order  to  facilitate  this  Mr.  Crewe  changed 
seats  with  the  Honourable  Jacob.  Neither  was  our  hero 
a  man  to  neglect,  on  account  of  straine<^elations,  to  insist 
upon  his  rights.  His  eyes  were  open  now,  and  he  saw  men 
and  things  political  as  they  were  ;  he  knew  that  his  bills 
for  the  emancipation  of  the  State  were  prisoners  in  the 
maw  of  the  dragon,  and  not  likely  to  see  the  light  of  law. 
Not  a  legislative  day  passed  that  he  did  not  demand,  with 
a  firmness  and  restraint  which  did  him  infinite  credit,  that 
Mr.  Bascom's  and  Mr.  Botcher's  committees  report  those 
bills  to  the  House  either  favourably  or  unfavourably.  And 
we  must  do  exact  justice,  likewise,  to  Messrs.  Bascom  and 
Botcher;  they,  too,  incited  perhaps  thereto  by  Mr.  Crewe's 
example,  answered  courteously  that  the  very  excellent 
bills  in  question  were  of  such  weight  and  importance  as 
not  to  be  decided  on  lightly,  and  that  there  were  necessary 
State  expenditures  which  had  first  to  be  passed  upon.  Mr. 
Speaker  Doby,  with  all  the  will  in  the  world,  could  do 
nothing  :  and  on  such  occasions  (Mr.  Crewe  could  see)  Mr. 
Doby  bore  a  striking  resemblance  to  the  picture  of  the 
mock-turtle  in  "  Alice  in  Wonderland  "  — a  fact  which  had 
been  pointed  out  by  Miss  Victoria  Flint.  In  truth,  all 
three  of  these  gentlemen  wore,  when  questioned,  such  a 
sorrowful  and  injured  air  as  would  have  deceived  a  more 
experienced  politician  than  the  new  member  from  Leith. 
The  will  to  oblige  was  infinite. 

There  was  no  doubt  about  the  fact  that  the  session  was 
rapidly  drawing  to  a  close ;  and  likewise  that  the  com 
mittees  guided  by  the  Honourables  Jacob  Botcher  and 
Brush  Bascom,  composed  of  members  carefully  picked  by 
that  judge  of  mankind,  Mr.  Doby,  were  wrestling  day  and 
night  (behind  closed  doors)  with  the  intellectual  problems 
presented  by  the  bills  of  the  member  from  Leith.  It  is 


THE   DESCENDANTS   OF   HORATIUS          221 

not  to  be  supposed  that  a  man  of  Mr.  Crewe's  shrewdness 
would  rest  at  the  word  of  the  chairmen.  Other  members 
were  catechized,  and  in  justice  to  Messrs.  Bascom  and 
Botcher  it  must  be  admitted  that  the  assertions  of  these 
gentlemen  were  confirmed.  It  appeared  that  the  amount 
of  thought  which  was  being  lavished  upon  these  measures 
was  appalling. 

By  this  time  Mr.  Crewe  had  made  some  new  friends, 
as  was  inevitable  when  such  a  man  unbent.  Three  of 
these  friends  owr&d,  by  a  singular  chance,  weekly  news 
papers,  and  having  conceived  a  liking  as  well  as  an  ad 
miration  for  him,  began  to  say  pleasant  things  about  him 
in  their  columns — which  Mr.  Crewe  (always  thoughtful) 
sent  to  other  friends  of  his.  These  new  and  accidental 
newspaper  friends  declared  weekly  that  measures  of  para 
mount  importance  were  slumbering  in  committees,  and 
cited  the  measures.  Other  friends  of  Mr.  Crewe  were  so 
inspired  by  affection  and  awe  that  they  actually  neglected 
their  business  and  spent  whole  days  in  the  rural  districts 
telling  people  what  a  fine  man  Mr.  Crewe  was  and  cir 
culating  petitions  for  his  bills  ;  and  incidentally  the  com 
mittees  of  Mr.  Botcher  and  Mr.  Bascom  were  flooded  with 
these  petitions,  representing  the  spontaneous  sentiment  of 
an  aggrieved  populace. 

"  Just  then  a  scout  came  flying, 

All  wild  with  haste  and  fear  : 
<To  arras  !  to  arms  !  Sir  Consul: 

Lars  Porsena  is  here.' 
On  the  low  hills  to  westward 

The  Consul  fixed  his  eye, 
And  saw  the  swarthy  storm  of  dust 

Rise  fast  along  the  sky." 

It  will  not  do  to  push  a  comparison  too  far,  and  Mr. 
Hamilton  Tooting,  of  course,  ought  not  to  be  made  to  act 
the  part  of  Tarquin  the  Proud.  Like  Tarquin,  however, 
he  had  been  deposed — one  of  those  fatuous  acts  which  the 
wisest  will  commit.  No  more  could  the  Honourable  Hilary 
well  be  likened  to  Pandora,  for  he  only  opened  the  box 


222  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

wide  enough  to  allow  one  mischievous  sprite  to  take 
wings  —  one  mischievous  sprite  that  was  to  prove  a  host. 
Talented  and  invaluable  lieutenant  that  he  was,  Mr. 
Tooting  had  become  an  exile,  to  explain  to  any  audience 
who  should  make  it  worth  his  while  the  mysterious  acts 
by  which  the  puppets  on  the  stage  were  moved,  and  who 
moved  them;  who,  for  instance,  wrote  the  declamation 
which  his  Excellency  Asa  Gray  recited  as  his  own.  Mr. 
Tooting,  as  we  have  seen,  had  a  remarkable  business  head, 
and  combined  with  it — as  Austen  Va&e  remarked — the 
rare  instinct  of  the  Norway  rat  which  goes  down  to  the 
sea  in  ships  —  when  they  are  safe.  Burrowing  continually 
amongst  the  bowels  of  the  vessel,  Mr.  Tooting  knew  the 
weak  timbers  better  than  the  Honourable  Hilary  Vane, 
who  thought  the  ship  as  sound  as  the  day  Augustus  Flint 
had  launched  her.  But  we  have  got  a  long  way  from 
Horatius  in  our  imagery. 

Little  birds  flutter  around  the  capital,  picking  up  what 
crumbs  they  may.  One  of  them,  occasionally  fed  by  that 
humanitarian,  the  Honourable  Jacob  Botcher,  whispered  a 
secret  that  made  the  humanitarian  knit  his  brows.  He 
was  the  scout  that  came  flying  (if  by  a  burst  of  imagi 
nation  we  can  conceive  the  Honourable  Jacob  in  this  aerial 
act)  —  came  flying  to  the  Consul  in  room  Number  Seven 
with  the  news  that  Mr.  Hamilton  Tooting  had  been  de 
tected  on  two  evenings  slipping  into  the  Duncan  house. 
But  the  Consul  —  strong  man  that  he  was  —  merely 
laughed.  The  Honourable  Elisha  Jane  did  some  scouting 
on  his  own  account.  Some  people  are  so  small  as  to  be 
repelled  by  greatness,  to  be  jealous  of  high  gifts  and  power, 
and  it  was  perhaps  inevitable  that  a  few  of  the  humbler 
members  whom  Mr.  Crewe  had  entertained  should  betray 
his  hospitality,  and  misinterpret  his  pure  motives. 

It  was  a  mere  coincidence,  perhaps,  that  after  Mr. 
Jane's  investigation  the  intellectual  concentration  which 
one  of  the  committees  had  bestowed  on  two  of  Mr. 
Crewe's  bills  came  to  an  end.  These  bills,  it  is  true, 
carried  no  appropriation,  and  were,  respectively,  the 
acts  to  incorporate  the  State  Economic  League  and  the 


THE  DESCENDANTS  OF  HORATIUS         223 

Children's  Charities  Association.  These  suddenly  ap 
peared  in  the  House  one  morning,  with  favourable  rec 
ommendations,  and,  mirabile  dictu,  the  end  of  the  day  saw 
them  through  the  Senate  and  signed  by  his  Excellency 
the  governor.  At  last  Mr.  Crewe  had  stamped  the 
mark  of  his  genius  on  the  statute  books,  and  the  Hon 
ourable  Jacob  Botcher,  holding  out  an  olive  branch,  took 
the  liberty  of  congratulating  him. 

A  vainer  man,  a  lighter  character  than  Humphrey 
Crewe,  would  have  been  content  to  have  got  something, 
and  let  it  rest  at  that.  Little  Mr.  Botcher  or  Mr. 
Speaker  Doby,  with  his  sorrowful  smile,  guessed  the  iron 
hand  within  the  velvet  glove  of  the  Leith  statesman;  little 
they  knew  the  man  they  were  dealing  with.  Once 
aroused,  he  would  not  be  pacified  by  bribes  of  cheap  olive 
branches  and  laurels.  When  the  proper  time  came,  he 
would  fling  down  the  gauntlet  bef'ore  Rome  itself,  and 
then  let  Horatius  and  his  friends  beware. 

The  hour  has  struck  at  last  —  and  the  man  is  not 
wanting.  The  French  Revolution  found  Napoleon  ready, 
and  our  own  Civil  War  General  Ulysses  Grant.  Of  that 
ever  memorable  session  but  three  days  remained,  and  those 
who  had  been  prepared  to  rise  in  the  good  cause  had  long 
since  despaired.  The  Pingsquit  bill,  and  all  other  bills 
that  spelled  liberty,  were  still  prisoners  in  the  hands  of 
grim  jailers,  and  Thomas  Gay  lord,  the  elder,  had  worn 
several  holes  in  the  carpet  of  his  private  room  in  the 
Pelican,  and  could  often  be  descried  from  Main  Street 
running  up  and  down  between  the  windows  like  a  caged 
lion,  while  young  Tom  had  been  spied  standing,  with  his 
hands  in  his  pockets,  smiling  on  the  world. 

Young  Tom  had  his  own  way  of  doing  things,  though 
he  little  dreamed  of  the  help  Heaven  was  to  send  him  in 
this  matter.  There  was,  in  the  lower  House,  a  young 
man  by  the  name  of  Harper,  a  lawyer  from  Brighton,  who 
was  sufficiently  eccentric  not  to  carry  a  pass.  The  light 
of  fame,  as  the  sunset  gilds  a  weathercock  on  a  steeple, 
sometimes  touches  such  men  for  an  instant  and  makes  them 
immortal.  The  name  of  Mr.  Harper  is  remembered, 


224  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

because  it  is  linked  with  a  greater  one.  But  Mr.  Harper 
was  the  first  man  over  the  wall. 

History  chooses  odd  moments  for  her  entrances.  It  was 
at  the  end  of  one  of  those  busy  afternoon  sessions,  with  a 
full  house,  when  Messrs.  Bascom,  Botcher,  and  Ridout  had 
done  enough  of  blocking  and  hacking  and  hewing  to  sat 
isfy  those  doughty  defenders  of  the  bridge,  that  a  slight, 
unprepossessing-looking  young  man  with  spectacles  arose 
to  make  a  motion.  The  Honourable  Jacob  Botcher,  with 
his  books  and  papers  under  his  arm,  was  already  picking 
his  way  up  the  aisle,  nodding  genially  to  such  of  the 
faithful  as  he  saw  ;  Mr.  Bascom  was  at  the  Speaker's 
desk,  and  Mr.  Ridout  receiving  a  messenger  from  the  Hon 
ourable  Hilary  at  the  door.  The  Speaker,  not  without 
some  difficulty,  recognized  Mr.  Harper  amidst  what  seemed 
the  beginning  of  an  exodus  —  and  Mr.  Harper  read  his 
motion. 

Men  halted  in  the  aisles,  and  nudged  other  men  to  make 
them  stop  talking.  Mr.  Harper's  voice  was  not  loud,  and 
it  shook  a  trifle  Avith  excitement,  but  those  who  heard  passed 
on  the  news  so  swiftly  to  those  who  had  not  that  the  House 
was  sitting  (or  standing)  in  amazed  silence  by  the  time 
the  motion  reached  the  Speaker,  who  had  actually  risen  to 
receive  it.  Mr.  Doby  regarded  it  for  a  few  seconds  and 
raised  his  eyes  mournfully  to  Mr.  Harper  himself,  as  much 
as  to  say  that  he  would  give  the  young  man  a  chance  to 
take  it  back  if  he  could  —  if  the  words  had  not  been  spoken 
which  would  bring  the  offender  to  the  block  in  the  bloom 
and  enthusiasm  of  youth.  Misguided  Mr.  Harper  had 
committed  unutterable  treason  to  the  Empire ! 

"  The  gentleman  from  Brighton,  Mr.  Harper,"  said  the 
Speaker,  sadly,  "offers  the  following  resolution,  and 
moves  its  adoption  :  '  Resolved,  that  the  Committee  on 
Incorporations  be  instructed  to  report  House  bill  number 
302,  entitled  An  act  to  incorporate  the  Pingsquit  Railroad, 
by  eleven-thirty  o'clock  to-morrow  morning ' — the  gentle 
man  from  Putnam,  Mr.  Bascom." 

The  House  listened  and  looked  on  entranced,  as  though 
they  were  the  spectators  to  a  tragedy.  And  indeed  it 


THE   DESCENDANTS   OF   HORATIUS          225 

seemed  as  though  they  were.  Necks  were  craned  to  see 
Mr.  Harper ;  he  didn't  look  like  a  hero,  but  one  never  can 
tell  about  these  little  men.  He  had  hurled  defiance  at 
the  Northeastern  Railroads,  and  that  was  enough  for  Mr. 
Redbrook  and  Mr.  Widgeon  and  their  friends,  who  pre 
pared  to  rush  into  the  fray  trusting  to  Heaven  for  speech 
and  parliamentary  law.  O  for  a  leader  now  !  Horatius 
is  on  the  bridge,  scarce  concealing  his  disdain  for  this 
puny  opponent,  and  Lartius  and  Herminius  not  taking  the 
trouble  to  arm.  Mr.  Bascom  will  crush  this  one  with  the 
flat  of  his  sword. 

"Mr.  Speaker,"  said  that  gentleman,  informally,  uas 
Chairman  of  the  Committee  on  Incorporations,  I  rise  to 
protest  against  such  an  unheard-of  motion  in  this  House. 
The  very  essence  of  orderly  procedure,  of  effective  busi 
ness,  depends  on  the  confidence  of  the  House  in  its  com 
mittees,  and  in  all  of  my  years  as  a  member  I  have  never 
known  of  such  a  thing.  Gentlemen  of  the  House,  your 
committee  are  giving  to  this  bill  and  other  measures  their 
undivided  attention,  and  will  report  them  at  the  earliest 
practicable  moment.  I  hope  that  this  motion  will  be  voted 
down." 

Mr.  Bascom,  with  a  glance  around  to  assure  himself  that 
most  of  the  hundred  members  of  the  Newcastle  delegation 
—  vassals  of  the  Winona  Corporation  and  subject  to  the 
Empire  —  had  not  made  use  of  their  passes  and  boarded, 
as  usual,  the  six  o'clock  train,  took  his  seat.  A  buzz  of 
excitement  ran  over  the  house,  a  dozen  men  were  on  their 
feet,  including  the  plainly  agitated  Mr.  Harper  himself. 
But  who  is  this,  in  the  lunar  cockpit  before  the  Speaker's 
desk,  demanding  firmly  to  be  heard  —  so  firmly  that  Mr. 
Harper,  with  a  glance  at  him,  sits  down  again;  so  firmly 
that  Mr.  Speaker  Doby,  hypnotized  by  an  eye,  makes  the 
blunder  that  will  eventually  cost  him  his  own  head? 

"The  gentleman  from  Leith,  Mr.  Crewe." 

As  though  sensing  a  drama,  the  mutterings  were  hushed 
once  more.  Mr.  Jacob  Botcher  leaned  forward,  and 
cracked  his  seat;  but  none,  even  those  who  had  tasted  of 
his  hospitality,  recognized  that  the  Black  Knight  had  en- 


226  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

tered  the  lists  —  the  greatest  deeds  of  this  world,  and  the 
heroes  of  them,  coming  unheralded  out  of  the  plain  clay. 
Mr.  Crewe  was  the  calmest  man  under  the  roof  as  he 
saluted  the  Speaker,  walked  up  to  the  clerk's  desk,  turned 
his  back  to  it,  arid  leaned  both  elbows  on  it;  and  he  re 
garded  the  sea  of  faces  with  the  identical  self-possession 
he  had  exhibited  when  he  had  made  his  famous  address 
on  national  affairs.  He  did  not  raise  his  voice  at  the 
beginning,  but  his  very  presence  seemed  to  compel  silence, 
and  curiosity  was  at  fever  heat.  What  was  he  going  to 
say? 

"  Gentlemen  of  the  House,"  said  Mr.  Crewe,  "  I  have 
listened  to  the  gentleman  from  Putnam  with  some — amuse 
ment.  He  has  made  the  statement  that  he  and  his  com 
mittee  are  giving  to  the  Pingsquit  bill  and  other  measures 

—  some  other  measures  —  their  undivided  attention.      Of 
this  I  have  no  doubt  whatever.     He  neglected  to  define 
the  species  of  attention  he  is  giving  them  —  I  should  de 
fine  it  as  the  kindly  care  which  the  warden  of  a  penitentiary 
bestows  upon  his  charges." 

Mr.  Crewe  was  interrupted  here.  The  submerged  four 
hundred  and  seventy  had  had  time  to  rub  their  eyes  and  get 
their  breath,  to  realize  that  their  champion  had  dealt  Mr.  Bas- 
com  a  blow  to  cleave  his  helm,  and  a  roar  of  mingled  laughter 
and  exultation  arose  in  the  back  seats,  and  there  was  more 
craning  to  see  the  glittering  eyes  of  the  Honourable  Brush 
and  the  expressions  of  his  two  companions-in-arms.  Mr. 
Speaker  Doby  beat  the  stone  with  his  gavel,  while  Mr. 
Crewe  continued  to  lean  back  calmly  until  the  noise  was 
over. 

"  Gentlemen,"  he  went  on,  "  I  will  enter  at  the  proper 
time  into  a  situation  —  known,  I  believe,  to  most  of  you 

—  that  brings  about  a  condition  of  affairs  by  which  the 
gentleman's   committee,   or  .the  gentleman  himself,  with 
his  capacious  pockets,  does  not  have  to  account  to  the 
House  for  every  bill  assigned  to  him  by  the  Speaker.     I 
have  taken  the  trouble  to  examine  a  little  into  the  gentle 
man's  past  record  —  he  has  been  chairman  of  such  com 
mittees  for  years  past,  and  I  find  no  trace  that  bills  inimical 


THE   DESCENDANTS   OF   HORATIUS         227 

to  certain  great  interests  have  ever  been  reported  back  by 
him.  The  Pingsquit  bill  involves  the  vital  principle  of 
competition.  I  have  read  it  with  considerable  care  and 
believe  it  to  be,  in  itself,  a  good  measure,  which  deserves 
a  fair  hearing.  I  have  had  no  conversation  whatever  with 
those  who  are  said  to  be  its  promoters.  If  the  bill  is  to 
pass,  it  has  little  enough  time  to  get  to  the  Senate.  By 
the  gentleman  from  Putnam's  own  statement  his  com 
mittee  have  given  it  its  share  of  attention,  and  I  believe 
this  House  is  entitled  to  know  the  verdict,  is  entitled  to 
accept  or  reject  a  report.  I  hope  the  motion  will  prevail." 

He  sat  down  amidst  a  storm  of  applause  which  would 
have  turned  the  head  of  a  lesser  man.  No  such  personal 
ovation  had  been  seen  in  the  House  for  years.  How  the 
Speaker  got  order ;  how  the  Honourable  Brush  Bascom 
declared  that  Mr.  Crewe  would  be  called  upon  to  prove 
his  statements  ;  how  Mr.  Botcher  regretted  that  a  new 
member  of  such  promise  should  go  off  at  half-cock ;  how 
Mr.  Ridout  hinted  that  the  new  member  might  think  he 
had  an  animus  ;  how  Mr.  Terry  of  Lee  and  Mr.  Widgeon 
of  Hull  denounced,  in  plain  hill  language,  the  North 
eastern  Railroads  and  lauded  the  man  of  prominence  who 
had  the  grit  to  oppose  them,  need  not  be  gone  into.  Mr. 
Crewe  at  length  demanded  the  previous  question,  which 
was  carried,  and  the  motion  was  carried,  too,  two  hundred 
and  fifty  to  one  hundred  and  fifty-two.  The  House 
adjourned. 

We  will  spare  the  blushes  of  the  hero  of  this  occasion, 
who  was  threatened  with  suffocation  by  an  inundation 
from  the  back  seats.  In  answer  to  the  congratulations 
and  queries,  he  replied  modestly  that  nobody  else  seemed 
to  have  had  the  sand  to  do  it,  so  he  did  it  himself.  He 
regarded  it  as  a  matter  of  duty,  however  unpleasant  and 
unforeseen  ;  and  if,  as  they  said,  he  had  been  a  pioneer, 
education  and  a  knowledge  of  railroads  and  the  world  had 
helped  him.  Whereupon,  adding  tactfully  that  he  desired 
the  evening  to  himself  to  prepare  for  the  battle  of  the 
morrow  (of  which  he  foresaw  he  was  to  bear  the  burden), 
he  extricated  himself  from  his  admirers  and  made  his  way 


228  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

unostentatiously  out  of  a  side  door  into  his  sleigh.  For 
the  man  who  had  kindled  a  fire  —  the  blaze  of  which  was 
to  mark  an  epoch  —  he  was  exceptionally  calm.  Not  so 
the  only  visitor  whom  Waters  had  instructions  to  admit 
that  evening. 

"  Say,  you  hit  it  just  right,"  cried  the  visitor,  too  ex 
ultant  to  take  off  his  overcoat.  "  I've  been  down  through 
the  Pelican,  and  there  ain't  been  such  excitement  since 
Snow  and  Giddings  had  the  fight  for  United  States 
senator  in  the  '80's.  The  place  is  all  torn  up,  and  you 
can^t  get  a  room  there  for  love  or  money.  They  tell  me 
they've  been  havin'  conferences  steady  in  Number  Seven 
since  the  session  closed,  and  Hilary  Vane's  sent  for  all  the 
Federal  and  State  office-holders  to  be  here  in  the  morning 
and  lobby.  Botcher  and  Jane  and  Bascom  are  circulatin' 
like  hot  water,  tellin'  everybody  that  because  they 
wouldn't  saddle  the  State  with  a  debt  with  your  bills  you 
turned  sour  on  'em,  and  that  you're  more  of  a  corporation 
and  railroad  man  than  any  of  'em.  They've  got  their 
machine  to  working  a  thousand  to  the  minute,  and  every 
body  they  have  a  slant  on  is  going  into  line.  One  of  them 
fellers,  a  conductor,  told  me  he  had  to  go  with  'em.  But 
our  boys  ain't  idle,  I  can  tell  you  that.  I  was  in  the  back 
of  the  gallery  when  you  spoke  up,  and  I  shook  'em  off 
the  leash  right  away." 

Mr.  Crewe  leaned  back  from  the  table  and  thrust  his 
hands  in  his  pockets  and  smiled.  He  was  in  one  of  his 
delightful  moods. 

"  Take  off  your  overcoat,  Tooting,"  he  said  ;  "  you'll 
find  one  of  my  best  political  cigars  over  there,  in  the 
usual  place." 

"  Well,  I  guessed  about  right,  didn't  I  ?  "  inquired  Mr. 
Tooting,  biting  off  one  of  the  "  political  cigars."  "  I  gave 
you  a  pretty  straight  tip,  didn't  I,  that  young  Tom  Gay- 
lord  was  goin'  to  have  somebody  make  that  motion  to-day  ? 
But  say,  it's  funny  he  couldn't  get  a  better  one  than  that 
feller  Harper.  If  you  hadn't  come  along,  they'd  have 
smashed  him  to  pulp.  I'll  bet  the  most  surprised  man  in 
the  State  to-night,  next  to  Brush  Bascom,  is  young  Tom 


THE   DESCENDANTS   OF   HORATIUS         229 

Gaylord.     It's  a  wonder  he  ain't  been  up  here  to  thank 
you." 

"Maybe  he  has  been,"  replied  Mr.  Crewe.  "I  told 
Waters  to  keep  everybody  out  to-night  because  I  want  to 
know  exactly  what  I'm  going  to  say  on  the  floor  to 
morrow.  I  don't  want  'em  to  give  me  trouble.  Did  you 
bring  some  of  those  papers  with  you  ?  " 

Mr.  Tooting  fished  a  bundle  from  his  overcoat  pocket. 
The  papers  in  question,  of  which  he  had  a  great  number 
stored  away  in  Ripton,  represented  the  foresight,  on  Mr. 
Tooting's  part,  of  years.  He  was  a  young  man  with  a 
praiseworthy  ambition  to  get  on  in  the  world,  and  during 
his  apprenticeship  in  the  office  of  the  Honourable  Hilary 
Vane  many  letters  and  documents  had  passed  through  his 
hands.  A  less  industrious  person  would  have  neglected 
the  opportunity.  Mr.  Tooting  copied  them  ;  and  some, 
which  would  have  gone  into  the  waste-basket,  he  laid 
carefully  aside,  bearing  in  mind  the  adage  about  little 
scraps  of  paper  —  if  there  is  one.  At  any  rate,  he  now 
had  a  manuscript  collection  which  was  unique  in  its  way, 
which  would  have  been  worth  much  to  a  great  many  men, 
and  with  characteristic  generosity  he  was  placing  it  at  the 
disposal  of  Mr.  Crewe. 

Mr.  Crewe,  in  reading  them,  had  other  sensations.  He 
warmed  with  indignation  as  an  American  citizen  that  a 
man  should  sit  in  a  mahogany  office  in  New  York  and  dic 
tate  the  government  of  a  free  and  sovereign  State;  and  he 
found  himself  in  the  grip  of  a  righteous  wrath  when  he  re 
called  what  Mr.  Flint  had  written  to  him.  "As  a  neigh 
bour,  it  will  give  me  the  greatest  pleasure  to  help  you  to 
the  extent  of  my  power,  but  the  Northeastern  Railroads 
cannot  interfere  in  legislative  or  political  matters."  The 
effrontery  of  it  was  appalling  !  Where,  he  demanded  of 
Mr.  Tooting,  did  the  common  people  come  in  ?  And  this 
extremely  pertinent  question  Mr.  Tooting  was  unable  to 
answer. 

But  the  wheels  of  justice  had  begun  to  turn. 
Mr.  Tooting  had  not  exaggerated  the  tumult  and  affright 
at  the  Pelican  Hotel.     The   private  telephone  in  Num- 


230  MR.   CREWE'S  CAREER 

her  Seven  was  busy  all  evening,  while  more  or  less  promi 
nent  gentlemen  were  using  continually  the  public  ones  in 
the  boxes  in  the  reading  room  downstairs.  The  Feudal 
System  was  showing  what  it  could  do,  and  the  word  had 
gone  out  to  all  the  holders  of  fiefs  that  the  vassals  should 
be  summoned.  The  Duke  of  Putnam  had  sent  out  a  gen 
eral  call  to  the  office-holders  in  that  county.  Theirs  not 
to  reason  why  —  but  obey;  and  some  of  them,  late  as  was 
the  hour,  were  already  travelling  (free)  towards  the  capi 
tal.  Even  the  congressional  delegation  in  Washington 
had  received  telegrams,  and  sent  them  again  to  Federal 
office-holders  in  various  parts  of  the  State.  If  Mr.  Crewe 
had  chosen  to  listen,  he  could  have  heard  the  tramp  of 
armed  men.  But  he  was  not  of  the  metal  to  be  dismayed 
by  the  prospect  of  a  great  conflict.  He  was  as  cool  as 
Cromwell,  and  after  Mr.  Tooting  had  left  him  to  take 
charge  once  more  of  his  own  armies  in  the  rield,  the  gen 
tleman  from  Leith  went  to  bed  and  slept  soundly. 

The  day  of  the  battle  dawned,  darkly,  with  great  flakes 
flying.  As  early  as  seven  o'clock  the  later  cohorts  began 
to  arrive,  and  were  soon  as  thick  as  bees  in  the  Pelican, 
circulating  in  the  lobby,  conferring  in  various  rooms  of 
which  they  had  the  numbers  with  occupants  in  bed  and 
out.  A  wonderful  organization,  that  Feudal  System,  which 
could  mobilize  an  army  overnight!  And  each  unit  of  it, 
like  the  bee,  working  unselfishly  for  the  good  of  the 
whole;  like  the  bee,  flying  straight  for  the  object  to  be 
attained.  Every  member  of  the  House  from  Putnam 
County,  for  instance,  was  seen  by  one  of  these  indefatigable 
captains,  and  if  the  member  had  a  mortgage  or  an  ambi 
tion,  or  a  wife  and  family  that  made  life  a  problem,  or  a 
situation  on  the  railroad  or  in  some  of  the  larger  manufac 
turing  establishments,  let  him  beware !  If  he  lived  in  lodg 
ings  in  the  town,  he  stuck  his  head  out  of  the  window  to 
perceive  a  cheery  neighbour  from  the  country  on  his  door 
step.  Think  of  a  system  which  could  do  this,  not  for  Put 
nam  County  alone,  but  for  all  the  counties  in  the  State! 

The  Honourable  Hilary  Vane,  captain-general  of  the 
Forces,  had  had  but  four  hours'  sleep,  and  his  Excellency, 


THE  DESCENDANTS  OF  HORATIUS         231 

the  Honourable  Asa  Gray,  when  he  arose  in  the  twilight 
of  the  morning,  had  to  step  carefully  to  avoid  the  cigar  butts 
on  the  floor  which  —  like  so  many  empty  cartridge  shells  — 
were  unpleasant  reminders  that  a  rebellion  of  no  mean 
magnitude  had  arisen  against  the  power  to  which  he  owed 
allegiance,  and  by  the  favour  of  which  he  was  attended  with 
pomp  and  circumstance  wherever  he  chose  to  go. 

Long  before  eleven  o'clock  the  paths  to  the  state-house 
were  thronged  with  people.  Beside  the  office-holders  and 
their  friends  who  were  in  town,  there  were  many  resi 
dents  of  the  capital  city  in  the  habit  of  going  to  hear  the 
livelier  debates.  Not  that  the  powers  of  the  Empire  had 
permitted  debates  on  most  subjects,  but  there  could  be  no 
harm  in  allowing  the  lower  House  to  discuss  as  fiercely  as 
they  pleased  dog  and  sheep  laws  and  hedgehog  bounties. 
But  now  !  The  oldest  resident  couldn't  remember  a 
case  of  high  treason  and  rebellion  against  the  North 
eastern  such  as  this  promised  to  be,  and  the  sensation 
took  on  an  added  flavour  from  the  fact  that  the  arch 
rebel  was  a  figure  of  picturesque  interest,  a  millionaire 
with  money  enough  to  rent  the  Duncan  house  and  fill  its 
long-disused  stable  with  horses,  who  was  a  capitalist  him 
self  and  a  friend  of  Mr.  Flint's;  of  whom  it  was  said  that 
he  was  going  to  marry  Mr.  Flint's  daughter! 

Long  before  eleven,  too,  the  chiefs  over  tens  and  the 
chiefs  over  hundreds  had  gathered  their  men  and 
marched  them  into  the  state-house;  and  Mr.  Tooting, 
who  was  everywhere  that  morning,  noticed  that  some 
of  these  led  soldiers  had  pieces  of  paper  in  their  hands. 
The  chaplain  arose  to  pray  for  guidance,  and  the  House 
was  crowded  to  its  capacity,  and  the  gallery  filled  with 
eager  and  expectant  faces  —  but  the  hero  of  the  hour  had 
not  yet  arrived.  When  at  length  he  did  walk  down  the 
aisle,  as  unconcernedly  as  though  he  were  an  unknown 
man  entering  a  theatre,  feminine  whispers  of  "There  he  is! " 
could  plainly  be  heard  above  the  buzz,  and  simultaneous 
applause  broke  out  in  spots,  causing  the  Speaker  to  rap 
sharply  with  his  gavel.  Poor  Mr.  Speaker  Doby!  He 
looked  more  like  the  mock-turtle  than  ever!  and  might 


232  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

have  exclaimed,  too,  that  once  he  had  been  a  real  turtle: 
only  yesterday,  in  fact,  before  he  had  made  the  inconceivable 
blunder  of  recognizing  Mr.  Humphrey  Crewe.  Mr.  Speaker 
Doby  had  spent  a  part  of  the  night  in  room  Number  Seven 
listening  to  things  about  himself.  Herminius  the  un 
speakable  has  given  the  enemy  a  foothold  in  Rome. 

Apparently  unaware  that  he  was  the  centre  of  interest, 
Mr.  Crewe,  carrying  a  neat  little  bag  full  of  papers,  took 
his  seat  beside  the  Honourable  Jacob  Botcher,  nodding  to 
that  erstwhile  friend  as  a  man  of  the  world  should.  And 
Mr.  Botcher,  not  to  be  outdone,  nodded  back. 

We  shall  skip  over  the  painful  interval  that  elapsed  before 
the  bill  in  question  was  reached:  painful,  at  least,  for 
every  one  but  Mr.  Crewe,  who  sat  with  his  knees  crossed 
and  his  arms  folded.  The  hosts  were  facing  each  other, 
awaiting  the  word;  the  reb^te-praverfully  watching  their 
gallant  leader;  and  the  loyal  vassals U- whose  wavering  ranks 
had  been  added  to  overnight —  with  their  eyes  on  Mr.  Bas- 
com.  And  in  justice  to  that  veteran  it  must  be  said, 
despite  the  knock-out  blow  he  had  received,  that  he 
seemed  as  debonair  as  ever. 

"  Now  while  the  three  were  tightening 
The  harness  on  their  backs." 

Mr.  Speaker  Doby  read  many  committee  reports,  and 
at  the  beginning  of  each  there  was  a  stir  of  expectation 
that  it  might  be  the  signal  for  battle.  But  at  length  he 
fumbled  among  his  papers,  cleared  away  the  lump  in  his 
throat,  and  glanced  significantly  at  Mr.  Bascom. 

"  The  Committee  on  Incorporations,  to  whom  was  referred 
House  bill  number  302,  entitled  An  act  to  incorporate  the 
Pingsquit  Railroad,  having  considered  the  same,  report 
the  same  with  the  following  resolution :  '  Resolved,  that 
it  is  inexpedient  to  legislate.  Brush  Bascom,  for  the 
Committee.'  Gentlemen,  are  you  ready  for  the  question? 
As  many  as  are  of  opinion  that  the  report  of  the  Com 
mittee  should  be  adopted  —  the  gentleman  from  Putnam, 
Mr.  Bascom." 

Again  let  us  do  exact  justice,  and  let  us  not  be  led  by 


THE   DESCENDANTS   OF   HORATIUS          233 

our  feelings  to  give  a  prejudiced  account  of  this  struggle. 
The  Honourable  Brush  Bascom,  skilled  from  youth  in  the 
use  of  weapons,  opened  the  combat  so  adroitly  that  more 
than  once  the  followers  of  his  noble  opponent  winced  and 
trembled.  The  bill,  Mr.  Bascom  said,  would  have  been 
reported  that  day,  anyway  —  a  statement  received  with 
mingled  cheers  and  jeers.  Then  followed  a  brief  and 
somewhat  intimate  history  of  the  Gaylord  Lumber  Com 
pany,  not  at  all  flattering  to  that  corporation.  Mr.  Bas- 
jom  hinted  at  an  animus:  there  was  no  more  need  for  a 
railroad  in  the  Pingsquit  Valley  than  there  was  for  a 
merry-go-round  in  the  cellar  of  the  state-house.  (Loud 
Laughter  from  everybody,  some  irreverent  person  crying 
out  that  a  merry-go-round  was  better  than  poker  tables.) 
When  Mr.  Bascom  came  to  discuss  the  gentleman  from 
Leith,  and  recited  the  names  of  the  committees  for  which 
Mr.  Crewe  —  in  his  desire  to  be  of  service  to  the  State  — 
had  applied,  there  was  more  laughter,  even  amongst  Mr. 
Crewe's  friends,  and  Mr.  Speaker  Doby  relaxed  so  far  as 
to  smile  sadly.  Mr.  Bascom  laid  his  watch  on  the  clerk's 
desk  and  began  to  read  the  list  of  bills  Mr.  Crewe  had  in 
troduced,  and  as  this  reading  proceeded  some  of  the  light- 
minded  showed  a  tendency  to  become  slightly  hysterical. 
Mr.  Bascom  said  that  he  would  like  to  see  all  those  bills 
grow  into  laws,  —  with  certain  slight  changes,  —  but  that 
he  could  not  conscientiously  vote  to  saddle  the  people  with 
another  Civil  War  debt.  It  was  well  for  the  State,  he 
hinted,  that  those  committees  were  composed  of  stanch 
men  who  would  do  their  duty  in  all  weathers,  regardless 
of  demagogues  who  sought  to  gratify  inordinate  ambi 
tions. 

The  hope  of  the  revolutionists  bore  these  strokes  and 
others  as  mighty  with  complacency,  as  though  they  had 
been  so  many  playful  taps;  and  while  the  battle  surged  hotly 
around  him  he  sat  calmly  listening  or  making  occasional 
notes  with  a  gold  ^pencil.  Born  leader  that  he  was,  he  was 
biding  his  time.  Mr.  Bascom 's  attack  was  met,  valiantly 
but  unskilfully,  from  the  back  seats.  The  Honourable 
Jacob  Botcher  arose,  and  filled  the  hall  with  extracts  from 


234  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

the  "Book  of  Arguments"  —  in  which  he  had  been  coached 
overnight  by  the  Honourable  Hilary  Vane.  Mr.  Botcher's 

tone  towards  his  erstwhile  friend  was  regretful, a  good 

man  gone  wrong  through  impulse  and  inexperience.  "  I 
am,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Bascom  to  the  Speaker,  "sincerely  sorry 
—sincerely  sorry  that  an  individual  of  such  ability  as  the 
member  from  Leith  should  be  led,  by  the  representations 
of  political  adventurers  and  brigands  and  malcontents,  into 
his  present  deplorable  position  of  criticising  a  State  which 
is  his  only  by  adoption,  the  political  conditions  of  which 
were  as  sound  and  as  free  from  corporate  domination,  sir, 
as  those  of  any  State  in  the  broad  Union."  (Loud  cheers.) 
This  appeal  to  State  pride  by  Mr.  Botcher  is  a  master 
stroke,  and  the  friends  of  the  champion  of  the  liberties  of 
the  people  are  beginning  (some  of  them)  to  be  a  little 
nervous  and  doubtful. 

Following  Mr.  Botcher  were  wild  and  scattering 
speeches  from  the  back  benches  —  unskilful  and  pitiable 
counterstrokes.  Where  was  the  champion  ?  Had  he  been 
tampered  with  overnight,  and  persuaded  of  the  futility  of 
rebellion?  Persuaded  that  his  head  would  be  more  useful 
on  his  own  neck  in  the  councils  of  the  nation  than  on  ex 
hibition  to  the  populace  from  the  point  of  a  pike  ?  It  looks, 
to  a  calm  spectator  from  the  gallery,  as  though  the  rebel 
forces  are  growing  weaker  and  more  demoralized  every 
moment.  Mr.  Redbrook's  speech,  vehement  and  honest, 
helps  a  little;  people  listen  to  an  honest  and  forceful  man, 
however  he  may  lack  technical  knowledge,  but  the  major 
ity  of  the  replies  are  mere  incoherent  denunciations  of  the 
Northeastern  Railroads.  • 

On  the  other  hand,  the  astounding  discipline  amongst 
the  Regions  of  the  Empire  excites  the  admiration  and  de 
spair  even  of  their  enemies;  there  is  no  random  fighting 
here  and  breaking  of  ranks  to  do  useless  hacking.  A 
grave  farmer  with  a  beard  delivers  a  short  and  temperate 
speech  (which  he  has  by  heart),  mildly  inquiring  what  the 
State  would  do  without  the  Northeastern  Railroads;  and 
the  very  moderation  of  this  query  coming  from  a  plain 
and  hard-headed  agriculturist  (the  boss  of  Grenville,  if 


THE   DESCENDANTS   OF   HORATIUS          235 

one  but  knew  it!)  has  a  telling  effect.  And  then  to  cap 
the  climax,  to  make  the  attitude  of  the  rebels  even  more 
ridiculous  in  the  minds  of  thinking  people,  Mr.  Ridout 
is  given  the  floor.  Skilled  in  debate  when  he  chooses  to 
enter  it,  his  knowledge  of  the  law  only  exceeded  by  his 
knowledge  of  how  it  is  to  be  evaded  —  to  Lartius  is 
assigned  the  task  of  following  up  the  rout.  And  Mr. 
Crewe  has  ceased  taking  notes. 

When  the  House  leader  and  attorney  for  the  North 
eastern  took  his  seat,  the  victory  to  all  appearances  was 
won.  It  was  a  victory  for  conservatism  and  established 
order  against  sensationalism  and  anarchy  —  Mr.  Ridout 
had  contrived  to  make  that  clear  without  actually  saying 
so.  It  was  as  if  the  Ute  Indians  had  sought  to  capture 
Washington  and  conduct  the  government.  Just  as  ridic 
ulous  as  that !  The  debate  seemed  to  be  exhausted,  and 
the  long-suffering  Mr.  Doby  was  inquiring  for  the  fiftieth 
time  if  the  House  were  ready  for  the  question,  when  Mr. 
Crewe  of  Leith  arose  and  was  recognized.  In  three  months  he 
had  acquired  such  a  remarkable  knowledge  of  the  game  of 
parliamentary  tactics  as  to  be  able,  patiently,  to  wait  until 
the  bolt  of  his  opponents  had  been  shot;  and  a  glance  suf 
ficed  to  revive  the  drooping  spirits  of  his  followers,  and  to 
assure  them  that  their  leader  knew  what  he  was  about. 

"Mr.  Speaker,"  he  said,  "'I  have  listened  with  great 
care  to  the  masterly  defence  of  that  corporation  on  which 
our  material  prosperity  and  civic  welfare  is  founded 
(laughter);  I  have  listened  to  the  gentleman's  learned 
discussion  of  the  finances  of  that  road,  tending  to  prove 
that  it  is  an  eleemosynary  institution  on  a  grand  scale.  I 
do  not  wish  to  question  unduly  the  intellects  of  those 
members  of  this  House  who  by  their  votes  will  prove  that 
they  have  been  convinced  by  the  gentleman's  argument." 
Here  Mr.  Crewe  paused  and  drew  a  slip  of  paper  from  his 
pocket  and  surveyed  the  back  seats.  "  But  I  perceive," 
he  continued,  "  that  a  great  interest  has  been  taken  in  this 
debate  —  so  great  an  interest  that  since  yesterday  numbers 
of  gentlemen  have  come  in  from  various  parts  of  the  State 
to  listen  to  it  (laughter  and  astonishment),  gentlemen 


236  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

who  hold  Federal  and  State  offices.  (Renewed  laughter  and 
searching  of  the  House.)  I  repeat,  Mr.  Speaker,  that  I  do 
not  wish  to  question  the  intellects  of  my  fellow-members, 
but  I  notice  that  many  of  them  who  are  seated  near  the 
Federal  and  State  office-holders  in  question  have  in  their 
hands  slips  of  paper  similar  to  this.  And  I  have  reason  to 
believe  that  these  slips  were  written  by  somebody  in  room 
Number  Seven  of  the  Pelican  Hotel."  (Tremendous  com 
motion,  and  craning  to  see  whether  one's  neighbour  has  a  slip. 
The  faces  of  the  redoubtable  three  a  study.) 

"  I  procured  one  of  these  slips,"  Mr.  Ore  we  continued, 
"  through  a  fellow-member  who  has  no  use  for  it  —  whose 
intelligence,  in  fact,  is  underrated  by  the  gentlemen  in 
Number  Seven.  I  will  read  the  slip. 

"  '  Vote  yes  on  the  question.  Yes  means  that  the  report 
of  the  Committee  will  be  accepted,  and  that  the  Pingsquit 
bill  will  not  pass.  Wait  for  Bascom's  signal,  and  destroy 
this  paper.' ' 

There  was  no  need,  indeed,  for  Mr.  Crewe  to  say  any 
more  than  that  —  no  need  for  the  admirable  discussion 
of  railroad  finance  from  an  expert's  standpoint  which 
followed  to  controvert  Mr.  Ridout's  misleading  state 
ments.  The  reading  of  the  words  on  the  slip  of  paper 
of  which  he  had  so  mysteriously  got  possession  (through 
Mr.  Hamilton  Tooting)  was  sufficient  to  bring  about  a  dis 
order  that  —  for  a  full  minute  —  Mr.  Speaker  Doby  found 
it  impossible  to  quell.  The  gallery  shook  with  laugh 
ter,  and  honourable  members  with  slips  of  paper  in  their 
hands-  were  made  as  conspicuous  as  if  they  had  been  caught 
wearing  dunces'  caps. 

It  was  then  only,  with  belated  wisdom,  that  Mr.  Bascom 
and  his  two  noble  companions  gave  up  the  fight,  and  let 
the  horde  across  the  bridge  —  too  late,  as  we  shall  see. 
The  populace,  led  by  a  redoubtable  leader,  have  learned 
their  strength.  It  is  true  that  the  shining  senatorial 
twenty  of  the  body-guard  stand  ready  to  be  hacked 
to 'pieces  at  their  posts  before  the  Pingsquit  bill  shall 
become  a  law;  and  should  unutterable  treason  take  place 
here,  his  Excellency  is  prepared  to  be  drawn  and  quartered 


THE  DESCENDANTS  OF  HORATIUS         237 

rather  than  sign  it.  It  is  the  Senate  which,  in  this  some 
what  inaccurate  repetition  of  history,  hold  the  citadel  if 
not  the  bridge;  and  in  spite  of  the  howling  mob  below 
their  windows,  scornfully  refuse  even  to  discuss  the 
Pingsquit  bill.  The  Honourable  Hilary  Yane,  whose 
face  they  study  at  dinner  time,  is  not  worried.  Popular 
wrath  does  not  continue  to  boil,  and  many  changes  will 
take  place  in  the  year  before  the  Legislature  meets 
again. 

This  is  the  Honourable  Hilary's  public  face.  But  are 
there  not  private  conferences  in  room  Number  Seven  of 
which  we  can  know  nothing  —  exceedingly  uncomfortable 
conferences  for  Horatius  and  his  companions  ?  Are  there 
not  private  telegrams  and  letters  to  the  president  of  the 
Northeastern  in  New  York  advising  him  that  the  Pings- 
quit  bill  has  passed  the  House,  and  that  a  certain 
Mr.  Crewe  is  primarily  responsible  ?  And  are  there  not 
queries  —  which  history  may  disclose  in  after  years  —  as 
to  whether  Mr.  Crewe's  abilities  as  a  statesman  have  not 
been  seriously  underrated  by  those  who  should  have  been 
the  first  to  perceive  them  ?  Verily,  pride  goeth  before  a 
fall. 

In  this  modern  version  of  ours,  the  fathers  throng  about 
another  than  Horatius  after  the  session  of  that  memorable 
morning.  Publicly  and  privately,  Mr.  Crewe  is  being 
congratulated,  and  we  know  enough  of  his  character  to 
appreciate  the  modesty  with  which  the  congratulations 
are  accepted.  He  is  the  same  Humphrey  Crewe  that  he 
was  before  he  became  the  corner-stone  of  the  temple; 
success  is  a  mere  outward  and  visible  sign  of  intrinsic 
worth  in  the  inner  man,  and  Mr.  Crewe  had  never  for  a 
moment  underestimated  his  true  value. 

"There's  no  use  wasting  time  in  talking  about  it,"  he 
told  the  grateful  members  who  sought  to  press  his  hands. 
"  Go  home  and  organize.  I've  got  your  name.  Get  your 
neighbours  into  line,  and  keep  me  informed.  I'll  pay 
for  the  postage-stamps.  I'm  no  impractical  reformer, 
and  if  we're  going  to  do  this  thing,  we'll  have  to  do  it 
right." 


238  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

They  left  him,  impressed  by  the  force  of  this  argument, 
with  an  added  respect  for  Mr.  Crewe,  and  a  vague  feeling 
that  they  were  pledged  to  something  which  made  not  a 
few  of  them  a  trifle  uneasy.  Mr.  Redbrook  was  one  of 
these. 

The  felicitations  of  his  new-found  friend  and  convert, 
Mr.  Tooting,  Mr.  Crewe  cut  short  with  the  terseness  of  a 
born  commander. 

"  Never  mind  that,"  he  said,  "  and  follow  'em  up  and 
get  'em  pledged  if  you  can." 

Get  'em  pledged !  Pledged  to  what  ?  -  Mr.  Tooting 
evidently  knew,  for  he  wasted  no  precious  moments  in 
asking  questions. 

There  is  no  time  at  this  place  to  go  into  the  feelings  of 
Mr.  Tom  Gaylord  the  younger  when  he  learned  that  his 
bill  had  passed  the  House.  He,  too,  meeting  Mr.  Crewe 
in  the  square,  took  the  opportunity  to  express  his  gratitude 
to  the  member  from  Leith. 

"  Come  in  on  Friday  afternoon,  Gayiord,"  answered  Mr. 
Crewe.  "  I've  got  several  things  to  talk  to  you  about. 
Your  general  acquaintance  around  the  State  will  be  useful, 
and  there  must  be  men  you  know  of  in  the  lumber  sec 
tions  who  can  help  us  considerably." 

"  Help  us  ?  "  repeated  young  Tom,  in  some  surprise. 

"  Certainly,"  replied  Mr.  Crewe  ;  "  you  don't  think  we're 
going  to  drop  the  fight  here,  do  you  ?  We've  got  to  put 
a  stop  in  this  State  to  political  domination  by  a  railroad, 
and  as  long  as  there  doesn't  seem  to  be  any  one  else  to 
take  hold,  I'm  going  to.  Your  bill's  a  good  bill,  and 
we'll  pass  it  next  session." 

Young  Tom  regarded  Mr.  Crewe  with  a  frank  stare. 

"I'm  going  up  to  the  Pingsquit  Valley  on  Friday," 
he  answered. 

"  Then  you'd  better  come  up  to  Leith  to  see  me  as 
soon  as  you  get  back,"  said  Mr.  Crewe.  "These  things 
can't  wait,  and  have  to  be  dealt  with  practically." 

Young  Tom  had  not  been  the  virtual  head  of  the  Gay- 
lord  Company  for  some  years  without  gaining  a  little 
knowledge  of  politics  and  humanity.  The  invitation  to 


THE   DESCENDANTS   OF  HORATIUS          239 

Leith  he  valued,  of  course,  but  he  felt  that  it  would  not 
do  to  accept  it  with  too  much  ardour.  He  was,  he  said, 
a  very  busy  man. 

"  That's  the  trouble  with  most  people,"  declared  Mr. 
Crewe;  "they  won't  take  the  time  to  bother  about  politics, 
and  then  they  complain  when  things  don't  go  right.  Now 
I'm  givin'  my  time  to  it,  when  I've  got  other  large  interests 
to  attend  to." 

On  his  way  back  to  the  Pelican,  young  Tom  halted  several 
times  reflectively,  as  certain  points  in  this  conversation  — 
which  he  seemed  to  have  missed  at  the  time  —  came  back 
to  him.  His  gratitude  to  Mr.  Crewe  as  a  public  benefactor 
was  profound,  of  course  ;  but  young  Tom's  sense  of  humour 
was  peculiar,  and  he  laughed  more  than  once,  out  loud,  at 
nothing  at  all.  Then  he  became  grave  again,  and  went 
into  the  hotel  and  wrote  a  long  letter,  which  he  addressed 
to  Mr.  Austen  Vane. 

And  now,  before  this  chapter  which  contains  these 
memorable  events  is  closed,  one  more  strange  and  sig 
nificant  fact  is  to  be  chronicled.  On  the  evening  of  the 
day  which  saw  Mr.  Crewe  triumphantly  leading  the  in 
surgent  forces  to  victory,  that  gentleman  sent  his  private 
secretary  to  the  office  of  the  State  Tribune  to  leave  an 
order  for  fifty  copies  of  the  paper  to  be  delivered  in  the 
morning.  Morning  came,  and  the  fifty  copies,  and  Mr. 
Crewe's  personal  copy  in  addition,  were  handed  to  him  by 
the  faithful  Waters  when  he  entered  his  dining  room  at 
an  early  hour.  Life  is  full  of  disillusions.  Could  this  be 
the  State  Tribune  he  held  in  his  hand  ?  The  State  Tribune 
of  Mr.  Peter  Pardriff,  who  had  stood  so  stanchly  for  Mr. 
Crewe  and  better  things?  Who  had  hitherto  held  the 
words  of  the  Leith  statesman  in  such  golden  estimate  as  to 
curtail  advertising  columns  when  it  was  necessary  to  print 
them  for  the  public  good  ? 

Mr.  Crewe's  eye  travelled  from  column  to  column,  from 
page  to  page,  in  vain.  By  some  incredible  oversight  on 
the  part  of  Mr.  Pardriff,  the  ringing  words  were  not  there, 
—  nay,  the  soul-stirring  events  of  that  eventful  day 
appeared,  on  closer  inspection,  to  have  been  deliberately 


240  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

edited  out  I  The  terrible  indignation  of 'the  righteous  arose 
as  Mr.  Crewe  read  (in  the  legislative  proceedings  of  the 
day  before)  that  the  Pingsquit  bill  had  been  discussed  by 
certain  members  —  of  whom  he  was  one  —  and  passed. 
This  was  all  —  literally  all!  If  Mr.  Pardriff  had  lived  in 
the  eighteenth  century,  he  would  probably  have  referred 
as  casually  to  the  Boston  massacre  as  a  street  fight  — which 
it  was. 

Profoundly  disgusted  with  human  kind, —  as  the  noblest 
of  us  will  be  at  times, —  Mr.  Crewe  flung  down  the 
paper,  and  actually  forgot  to  send  the  fifty  copies  to  his 
friends ! 


CHAPTER  XV 

THE   DISTURBANCE   OF   JUNE   SEVENTH 

AFTER  Mr.  Speaker  Doby  had  got  his  gold  watch  from 
an  admiring  and  apparently  reunited  House,  and  had 
wept  over  it,  the  Legislature  adjourned.  This  was  about 
the  first  of  April,  that  sloppiest  and  windiest  of  months 
in  a  northern  climate,  and  Mr.  Crewe  had  intended,  as 
usual,  to  make  a  little  trip  southward  to  a  club  of  which 
he  was  a  member.  A  sense  of  duty,  instead,  took  him  to 
Leith,  where  he  sat  through  the  days  in  his  study,  dictat 
ing  letters,  poring  over  a  great  map  of  the  State  which 
he  had  hung  on  the  wall,  and  scanning  long  printed  lists. 
If  we  could  stand  behind  him,  we  should  see  that  these 
are  what  are  known  as  check-lists,  or  rosters  of  the  voters  in 
various  towns. 

Mr.  Crewe  also  has  an  unusual  number  of  visitors  for 
this  muddy  weather,  when  the  snow-water  is  making 
brooks  of  the  roads.  Interested  observers  —  if  there 
were  any  —  might  have  remarked  that  his  friendship  with 
Mr.  Hamilton  Tooting  had  increased,  that  gentleman 
coming  up  from  Ripton  at  least  twice  a  week,  and  aiding 
Mr.  Crewe  to  multiply  his  acquaintances  by  bringing 
numerous  strangers  to  see  him.  Mr.  Tooting,  as  we 
know,  had  abandoned  the  law  office  of  the  Honourable 
Hilary  Vane  and  was  now  engaged  in  travelling  over  the 
State,  apparently  in  search  of  health.  These  were  signs, 
surely,  which  the  wise  might  have  read  with  profit:  in 
the  offices,  for  instance,  of  the  Honourable  Hilary  Vane 
in  Ripton  Square,  where  seismic  disturbances  were  regis 
tered;  but  the  movement  of  the  needle  (to  the  Hon 
ourable  Hilary's  eye)  was  almost  imperceptible.  What 
observer,  however  experienced,  would  have  believed  that 
such  delicate  tracings  could  herald  a  volcanic  eruption  ? 
R  241 


242  MR.   CREWE'S  CAREER 

Throughout  the  month  of  April  the  needle  kept  up  its 
persistent  registering,  and  the  Honourable  Hilary  con 
tinued  to  smile.  The  Honourable  Jacob  Botcher,  who 
had  made  a  trip  to  Ripton  and  had  cited  that  very  decided 
earthquake  shock  of  the  Pingsquit  bill,  had  been  ridiculed 
for  his  pains,  and  had  gone  away  again  comforted  by  com 
munion  with  a  strong  man.  The  Honourable  Jacob  had 
felt  little  shocks  in  his  fief:  Mr.  Tooting  had  visited  it, 
sitting  with  his  feet  on  the  tables  of  hotel  waiting-rooms, 
holding  private  intercourse  with  gentlemen  who  had  been 
disappointed  in  office.  Mr.  Tooting  had  likewise  been  a 
sojourner  in  the  domain  of  the  Duke  of  Putnam.  But  the 
Honourable  Brush  was  not  troubled,  and  had  presented 
Mr.  Tooting  with  a  cigar. 

In  spite  of  the  strange  omission  of  the  State  Tribune  to 
print  his  speech  and  to  give  his  victory  in  the  matter  of 
the  Pingsquit  bill  proper  recognition,  Mr.  Crewe  was  too 
big  a  man  to  stop  his  subscription  to  the  paper.  Con 
scious  that  he  had  done  his  duty  in  that  matter,  neither 
praise  nor  blame  could  affect  him;  and  although  he  had 
not  been  mentioned  since,  he  read  it  assiduously  every 
afternoon  upon  its  arrival  at  Leith,  feeling  confident  that 
Mr.  Peter  Pardriff  (who  had  always  in  private  conversation 
proclaimed  himself  emphatically  for  reform)  would  not 
eventually  refuse  —  to  a  prophet  —  public  recognition. 
One  afternoon  towards  the  end  of  that  month  of  April, 
when  the  sun  had  made  the  last  snow-drift  into  a  pool, 
Mr.  Crewe  settled  himself  on  his  south  porch  and  opened 
the  State  Tribune,  and  his  heart  gave  a  bound  as  his  eye 
fell  upon  the  following  heading  to  the  leading  editorial :  — 

A  WORTHY  PUBLIC  SERVANT  FOR  GOVERNOR 

Had  his  reward  come  at  last  ?  Had  Mr.  Peter  Pardriff 
seen  the  error  of  his  way  ?  Mr.  Crewe  leisurely  folded 
back  the  sheet,  and  called  to  his  secretary,  who  was  never 
far  distant. 

"  Look  here,"  he  said,  "  I  guess  Pardriff's  recovered  his 
senses.  Look  here  !  " 


THE   DISTURBANCE  OF  JUNE  SEVENTH    243 

The  tired  secretary,  ready  with  his  pencil  and  notebook 
to  order  fifty  copies,  responded,  staring  over  his  employ 
er's  shoulder.  It  has  been  said  of  men  in  battle  that  they 
have  been  shot  and  have  run  forward  some  hundred  feet 
without  knowing  what  has  happened  to  them.  And  so  Mr. 
Crewe  got  five  or  six  lines  into  that  editorial  before  he 
realized  in  full  the  baseness  of  Mr.  Pardriff's  treachery. 

"  These  are  times  "  (so  ran  Mr.  Pardriff's  composition) 
"when  the  sure  and  steadying  hand  of  a  strong  man  is 
needed  at  the  helm  of  State.  A  man  of  conservative, 
business  habits  of  mind;  a  man  who  weighs  the  value  of 
traditions  equally  with  the  just  demands  of  a  new  era ;  a 
man  with  a  knowledge  of  public  affairs  derived  from  long 
experience;"  (!  !  ! )  "a  man  who  has  never  sought 
office,  but  has  held  it  by  the  will  of  the  people,  and  who 
himself  is  a  proof  that  the  conduct  of  State  institutions  in 
the  past  has  been  just  and  equitable.  One  who  has  served 
with  distinction  upon  such  boards  as  the  Railroad  Com 
mission,  the  Board  of  Equalization,  etc.,  etc."  (!  !  !)  "A 
stanch  Republican,  one  who  puts  party  before  — "  here 
the  newspaper  began  to  shake  a  little,  and  Mr.  Crewe 
could  not  for  the  moment  see  whether  the  next  word 
were  place  or  principle.  He  skipped  a  few  lines.  The 
Tribune,  it  appeared,  had  a  scintillating  idea,  which  surely 
must  have  occurred  to  others  in  the  State.  "  Why  not  the 
Honourable  Adam  B.  Hunt  of  Edmundton  for  the  next 
governor  ?  " 

The  Honourable  Adam  B.  Hunt  of  Edmundton  ! 

It  is  a  pleasure  to  record,  at  this  crisis,  that  Mr.  Crewe 
fixed  upon  his  secretary  as  steady  an  eye  as  though  Mr. 
Pardriff's  bullet  had  missed  its  mark. 

"  Get  me,"  he  said  coolly,  "  the  '  State  Encyclopaedia 
of  Prominent  Men."  (Just  printed.  Fogarty  and  Co., 
Newcastle,  publishers.) 

The  secretary  fetched  it,  open  at  the  handsome  and  life 
like  steel-engraving  of  the  Honourable  Adam,  with  his 
broad  forehead  and  kindly,  twinkling  eyes,  and  the  tuft 
of  beard  on  his  chin ;  with  his  ample  statesman's  coat  in 
natural  creases,  and  his  white  shirt-front  and  little  black 


244  MR.   CREWE'S  CAREER 

tie.  Mr.  Crewe  gazed  at  this  work  of  art  long  and 
earnestly.  The  Honourable  Adam  B.  Hunt  did  not  in 
the  least  have  the  appearance  of  a  bolt  from  the  blue. 
And  then  Mr.  Crewe  read  his  biography. 

Two  things  he  shrewdly  noted  about  that  biography ; 
it  was  placed,  out  of  alphabetical  order,  fourth  in  the  book, 
and  it  was  longer  than  any  other  with  one  exception  — 
that  of  Mr.  Ridout,  the  capital  lawyer.  Mr.  Ridout's 
place  was  second  in  this  invaluable  volume,  he  being 
preceded  only  by  a  harmless  patriarch.  These  facts  were 
laid  before  Mr.  Tooting,  who  was  directed  by  telephone 
to  come  to  Leith  as  soon  as  he  should  arrive  in  Ripton 
from  his  latest  excursion.  It  was  nine  o'clock  at  night 
when  that  long-suffering  and  mud-bespattered  individual 
put  in  an  appearance  at  the  door  of  his  friend's  study. 

"  Because  I  didn't  get  on  to  it,"  answered  Mr.  Tooting, 
in  response  to  a  reproach  for  not  having  registered  a  warn 
ing —  for  he  was  Mr.  Crewe's  seismograph.  "I  knew  old 
Adam  was  on  the  Railroads'  governor's  bench,  but  I  hadn't 
any  notion  he'd  been  moved  up  to  the  top  of  the  batting- 
list.  I  told  you  right.  Ridout  was  going  to  be  their  next 
governor  if  you  hadn't  singed  him  with  the  Pingsquit  bill. 
This  was  done  pretty  slick,  wasn't  it  ?  Hilary  got  back 
from  New  York  day  before  yesterday,  and  Pardriff  has 
the  editorial  to-day.  Say,  I  always  told  you  Pardriff 
wasn't  a  reformer,  didn't  I  ?  " 

Mr.  Crewe  looked  pained. 

"  I  prefer  to  believe  the  best  of  people  until  I  know  the 
worst,"  he  said.  "  I  did  not  think  Mr.  Pardriff:  capable  of 
ingratitude." 

What  Mr.  Crewe  meant  by  this  remark  is  enigmatical. 

"  He  ain't,"  replied  Mr.  Tooting,  "  he's  grateful  for  that 
red  ticket  he  carries  around  with  him  when  he  travels,  and 
he's  grateful  to  the  Honourable  Adam  B.  Hunt  for  favours 
to  come.  Peter  Pardriff's  a  grateful  cuss,  all  right,  all 
right." 

Mr.  Crewe  tapped  his  fingers  on  the  desk  thoughtfully. 

"  The  need  of  a  reform  campaign  is  more  apparent  than 
ever,"  he  remarked. 


THE   DISTURBANCE  OF  JUNE   SEVENTH     245 

Mr.  Tooting  put  his  tongue  in  his  cheek ;  and,  seeing  a 
dreamy  expression  on  his  friend's  face,  accidentally  helped 
himself  to  a  cigar  out  of  the  wrong  box. 

"  It's  up  to  a  man  with  a  sense  of  duty  and  money  to 
make  it,"  Mr.  Tooting  agreed,  taking  a  long  pull  at  the 
Havana. 

"As  for  the  money,"  replied  Mr.  Crewe,  "the  good 
citizens  of  the  State  should  be  willing  to  contribute 
largely.  I  have  had  a  list  of  men  of  means  prepared,  who 
will  receive  notices  at  the  proper  time." 

Mr.  Hamilton  Tooting  spread  out  his  feet,  and  appeared 
to  be  studying  them  carefully. 

"  It's  funny  you  should  have  mentioned  cash,"  he  said, 
after  a  moment's  silence,  "  and  it's  tough  on  you  to  have 
to  be  the  public-spirited  man  to  put  it  up  at  the  start. 
I've  got  a  little  memorandum  here,"  he  added,  fumbling 
apologetically  in  his  pocket ;  "  it  certainly  costs  something 
to  move  the  boys  around  and  keep  'em  indignant." 

Mr.  Tooting  put  the  paper  on  the  edge  of  the  desk,  and 
Mr.  Crewe,  without  looking,  reached  out  his  hand  for  it, 
the  pained  expression  returning  to  his  face. 

"  Tooting,"  he  said,  "  you've  got  a  very  flippant  way  of 
speaking  of  serious  things.  It  strikes  me  that  these 
expenses  are  out  of  all  proportion  to  the  simplicity  of  the 
task  involved.  It  strikes  me  —  ahem  —  that  you  might 
find,  in  some  quarters  at  least,  a  freer  response  to  a  -move 
ment  founded  on  principle." 

"  That's  right,"  declared  Mr.  Tooting,  "  I've  thought  so 
myself.  I've  got  mad,  and  told  'em  so  to  their  faces. 
But  you've  said  yourself,  Mr.  Crewe,  that  we've  got  to 
deal  with  this  thing  practically." 

"  Certainly,"  Mr.  Crewe  interrupted.  He  loved  the 
word. 

"  And  we've  got  to  get  workers,  haven't  we  ?  And  it 
costs  money  to  move  'em  round,  don't  it?  We  haven't 
got  a  bushel  basket  of  passes.  Look  here,"  and  he  pushed 
another  paper  at  Mr.  Crewe,  "  here's  ten  new  ones  who've 
made  up  their  minds  that  you're  the  finest  man  in  the 
State.  That  makes  twenty." 


246  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

Mr.  Crewe  took  that  paper  deprecatingly,  but  neverthe 
less  began  a  fire  of  cross-questions  on  Mr.  Tooting  as  to 
the  personality,  habits,  and  occupations  of  the  discerning 
ten  in  question,  making  certain  little  marks  of  his  own 
against  each  name.  Thus  it  will  be  seen  that  Mr.  Crewe 
knew  perfectly  what  he  was  about  —  although  no  one 
else  did  except  Mr.  Tooting,  who  merely  looked  mysterious 
when  questioned  on  the  streets  of  Ripton  or  Newcastle  or 
Kingston.  It  was  generally  supposed,  however,  that  the 
gentleman  from  Leith  was  going  to  run  for  the  State 
Senate,  and  was  attempting  to  get  a  following  in  other 
counties,  in  order  to  push  through  his  measures  next  time. 
Hence  the  tiny  fluctuations  of  Hilary  Vane's  seismograph  — 
an  instrument,  as  will  be  shown,  utterly  out-of-date.  Not 
so  the  motto  toujours  de  Taudace.  Geniuses  continue  (at 
long  intervals)  to  be  born,  and  to  live  up  to  that  motto. 

That  seismograph  of  the  Honourable  Hilary's  persisted 
in  tracing  only  a  slightly  ragged  line  throughout  the 
beautiful  month  of  May,  in  which  favourable  season  the 
campaign  of  the  Honourable  Adam  B.  Hunt  took  root  and 
flourished  —  apparently  from  the  seed  planted  by  the 
State  Tribune.  The  ground,  as  usual,  had  been  carefully 
prepared,  and  trained  gardeners  raked,  and  watered,  and 
weeded  the  patch.  It  had  been  decreed  and  countersigned 
that  the  Honourable  Adam  B.  Hunt  was  the  flower  that 
was  to  grow  this  year. 

There  must  be  something  vitally  wrong  with  an  in 
strument  which  failed  to  register  the  great  earthquake 
shock  of  June  the  seventh  1 

Now  that  we  have  come  to  the  point  where  this  shock 
is  to  be  recorded  on  these  pages,  we  begin  to  doubt 
whether  our  own  pen  will  be  able  adequately  to  register 
it,  and  whether  the  sheet  is  long  enough  and  broad  enough 
upon  which  to  portray  the  relative  importance  of  the  dis 
turbance  created.  The  trouble  is,  that  there  is  nothing 
to  measure  it  by.  What  other  event  in  the  history  of  the 
State  produced  the  vexation  of  spirit,  the  anger,  the  tears, 
the  profanity ;  the  derision,  the  laughter  of  fools,  the  con 
tempt  ;  the  hope,  the  glee,  the  prayers,  the  awe,  the  dumb 


THE   DISTURBANCE  OF  JUNE  SEVENTH     247 

amazement  at  the  superb  courage  of  this  act  ?  No,  for  a 
just  comparison  we  shall  have  to  reach  back  to  history 
and  fable  :  David  and  Goliath ;  Theseus  and  the  Minotaur; 
or,  better  still,  Cadmus  and  the  Dragon !  It  was  Cadmus 
(if  we  remember  rightly)  who  wasted  no  time  whatever, 
but  actually  jumped  down  the  dragon's  throat  and  cut 
him  up  from  the  inside !  And  it  was  Cadmus,  likewise, 
who  afterwards  sowed  the  dragon's  teeth. 

That  wondrous  clear  and  fresh  summer  morning  of 
June  the  seventh  will  not  be  forgotten  for  many  years. 
The  trees  were  in  their  early  leaf  in  Ripton  Square,  and 
the  dark  pine  patches  on  Sawanec  looked  (from  Austen's 
little  office)  like  cloud  shadows  against  the  shimmer  of 
the  tender  green.  He  sat  at  his  table,  which  was  covered 
with  open  law-books  and  papers,  but  his  eyes  were  on  the 
distant  mountain,  and  every  scent-laden  breeze  wafted  in 
at  his  open  window  seemed  the  bearer  of  a  tremulous, 
wistful,  yet  imperious  message  —  "  Come  !  "  Throughout 
the  changing  seasons  Sawanec  called  to  him  in  words  of 
love :  sometimes  her  face  was  hidden  by  cloud  and  fog  — 
and  yet  he  heard  her  voice  !  Sometimes  her  perfume  — - 
as  to-day  —  made  him  dream ;  sometimes,  when  the  west 
ern  heavens  were  flooded  with  the  golden  light  of  the 
infinite,  she  veiled  herself  in  magic  purple,  when  to  gaze 
at  her  was  an  exquisite  agony,  and  she  became  as  one  for 
bidden  to  man.  Though  his  soul  cried  out  to  her  across 
the  spaces,  she  was  not  for  him.  She  was  not  for  him ! 

With  a  sigh  he  turned  to  his  law-books  again,  and  sat 
for  a  while  staring  steadfastly  at  a  section  of  the  Act  of 
Consolidation  of  the  Northeastern  Railroads  which  he  had 
stumbled  on  that  morning.  The  section,  if  he  read  its 
meaning  aright,  was  fraught  with,  the  gravest  conse 
quences  for  the  Northeastern  Railroads ;  if  he  read  its 
meaning  aright,  the  Northeastern  Railroads  had  been 
violating  it  persistently  for  many  years  and  were  liable 
for  unknown  sums  in  damages.  The  discovery  of  it  had 
dazed  him,  and  the  consequences  resulting  from  a  success 
ful  suit  under  the  section  would  be  so  great  that  he  had 
searched  diligently,  though  in  vain,  for  some  modification 


248  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

of  it  since  its  enactment.  Why  had  not  some  one  dis 
covered  it  before  ?  This  query  appeared  to  be  unanswer 
able,  until  the  simple  —  though  none  the  less  remarkable 
—  solution  came  to  him,  that  perhaps  no  definite  occasion 
had  hitherto  arisen  for  seeking  it.  Undoubtedly  the  Rail 
roads'  attorneys  must  know  of  its  existence  —  his  own 
father,  Hilary  Vane,  having  been  instrumental  in  drawing 
up  the  Act.  And  a  long  period  had  elapsed  under  which 
the  Northeastern  Railroads  had  been  a  law  unto  them 
selves. 

The  discovery  was  of  grave  import  to  Austen.  A 
month  before,  chiefly  through  the  efforts  of  his  friend, 
Tom,  who  was  gradually  taking  his  father's  place  in  the 
Gaylord  Lumber  Company,  Austen  had  been  appointed 
junior  counsel  for  that  corporation.  The  Honourable 
Galusha  Hammer  still  remained  the  senior  counsel,  but 
was  now  confined  in  his  house  at  Newcastle  by  an  illness 
which  made  the  probability  of  his  return  to  active  life 
extremely  doubtful;  and  Tom  had  repeatedly  declared 
that  in  the  event  of  his  non-recovery  Austen  should  have 
Mr.  Hammer's  place.  As  counsel  for  the  Gaylord  Lum 
ber  Company,  it  was  clearly  his  duty  to  call  the  attention 
of  young  Mr.  Gaylord  to  the  section;  and  in  case  Mr. 
Hammer  did  not  resume  his  law  practice,  it  would  fall 
upon  Austen  himself  to  bring  the  suit.  His  opponent  in 
this  matter  would  be  his  own  father ! 

The  consequences  of  this  culminating  conflict  between 
them,  the  coming  of  which  he  had  long  dreaded  —  although 
he  had  not  foreseen  its  specific  cause  —  weighed  heavily 
upon  Austen.  It  was  Tom  Gaylord  himself  who  abruptly 
aroused  him  from  his  revery  by  bursting  in  at  the  door. 

"  Have  you  heard  what's  up?"  he  cried,  flinging  down 
a  newspaper  before  Austen's  eyes.  "  Have  you  seen  the 
Guardian?" 

"  What's  the  matter  now,  Tom  ?  " 

"  Matter  I"  exclaimed  Tom;  "read  that.  Your  friend 
and  client,  the  Honourable  Humphrey  Crewe,  is  out  for 
governor." 

"  Humphrey  Crewe  for  governor !  " 


THE   DISTURBANCE   OF  JUNE   SEVENTH    249 

"  On  an  anti-railroad  platform.  I  might  have  known 
something  of  the  kind  was  up  when  he  began  to  associate 
with  Tooting,  and  from  the  way  he  spoke  to  me  in  March. 
But  who'd  have  thought  he'd  have  the  cheek  to  come  out 
for  governor  ?  Did  you  ever  hear  of  such  tommyrot  ?  " 

Austen  looked  grave. 

"  I'm  not  sure  it's  such  tommyrot,"  he  said. 

"  Not  tommyrot  ?  "  Tom  ejaculated.  "  Everybody's  laugh 
ing.  When  I  passed  the  Honourable  Hilary's  door  just 
now,  Brush  Bascom  and  some  of  the  old  liners  were  there, 
reciting  parts  of  the  proclamation,  and  the  boys  down  in 
the  Ripton  House  are  having  the  time  of  their  lives." 

Austen  took  the  Guardian,  and  there,  sure  enough, 
filling  a  leading  column,  and  in  a  little  coarser  type  than 
the  rest  of  the  page,  he  read :  — 

DOWN  WITH  RAILKOAD  RULE! 

The  Honourable  Humphrey  Crewe  of  Leitli,  at  the  request 
of  twenty  prominent  citizens,  consents  to  become  a  candidate 
for  the  Republican  Nomination  for  Governor. 

Ringing  letter  of  acceptance,  in  which  he  denounces  the 
political  power  of  the  Northeastern  Railroads,  and  declares 
that  the  State  is  governed  from  a  gilded  suite  of  offices  in 
New  York. 

"The  following  letter,  evincing  as  it  does  a  public 
opinion  thoroughly  aroused  in  all  parts  of  the  State 
against  the  present  disgraceful  political  conditions,  speaks 
for  itself.  The  standing  and  character  of  its  signers  give 
it  a  status  which  Republican  voters  cannot  ignore." 

The  letter  followed.  It  prayed  Mr.  Crewe,  in  the  name 
of  decency  and  good  government,  to  carry  the  standard  of 
honest  men  to  victory.  Too  long  had  a  proud  and  sov 
ereign  State  writhed  under  the  heel  of  an  all-devouring 
corporation!  Too  long  had  the  Northeastern  Railroads 
elected,  for  their  own  selfish  ends,  governors  and  legis 
latures  and  controlled  railroad  commissions !  The  spirit 


250  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

of  1776  was  abroad  in  the  land.  It  was  eminently  fitting 
that  the  Honourable  Humphrey  Crewe  of  Leith,  who  had 
dared  to  fling  down  the  gauntlet  in  the  face  of  an  arro 
gant  power,  should  be  the  leader  of  the  plain  people,  to 
recover  the  rights  which  had  been  wrested  from  them. 
Had  he  not  given  the  highest  proof  that  he  had  the 
people's  interests  at  heart?  He  was  clearly  a  man  who 
"did  things." 

At  this  point  Austen  looked  up  and  smiled. 

"  Tom,"  he  asked,  "  has  it  struck  you  that  this  is  written 
in  the  same  inimitable  style  as  a  part  of  the  message  of 
the  Honourable  Asa  Gray  ?  " 

Tom  slapped  his  knee. 

"  That's  exactly  what  I  said !  "  he  cried.  "  Tooting 
wrote  it.  I'll  swear  to  it." 

"And  the  twenty  prominent  citizens  —  do  you  know 
any  of  'em,  Tom?" 

"Well,"  said  Tom,  in  delighted  appreciation,  "I've 
heard  of  three  of  'em,  and  that's  more  than  any  man  I've 
met  can  boast  of.  Ed  Dubois  cuts  my  hair  when  I  go  to 
Kingston.  He  certainly  is  a  prominent  citizen  in  the 
fourth  ward.  Jim  Kendall  runs  the  weekly  newspaper 
in  Grantley  —  I  understood  it  was  for  sale.  Bill  Clem 
ents  is  prominent  enough  up  at  Groveton.  He  wanted 
a  trolley  franchise  some  years  ago,  you  remember." 

"  And  didn't  get  it." 

Mr.  Crewe's  answer  was  characteristicall}r  terse  and 
businesslike.  The  overwhelming  compliment  of  a  request 
from  such  gentlemen  must  be  treated  in  the  nature  of  a 
command  —  and  yet  he  had  hesitated  for  several  weeks, 
during  which  period  he  had  cast  about  for  another  more 
worthy  of  the  honour.  Then  followed  a  somewhat  techni 
cal  and  (to  the  lay  mind)  obscure  recapitulation  of  the 
iniquities  the  Northeastern  was  committing,  which  proved 
beyond  peradventure  that  Mr.  Crewe  knew  what  he  was 
talking  about ;  such  phrases  as  "  rolling  stock,"  "  milking 
the  road  "  —  an  imposing  array  of  facts  and  figures.  Mr. 
Crewe  made  it  plain  that  he  was  a  man  who  "did  things." 
And  if  it  were  the  will  of  Heaven  that  he  became  gov 


THE   DISTURBANCE   OF   JUNE  SEVENTH     251 

ernor,  certain  material  benefits  would  as  inevitably  ensue 
as  the  day  follows  the  night.  The  list  of  the  material 
benefits,  for  which  there  was  a  crying  need,  bore  a  strong 
resemblance  to  a  summary  of  the  worthy  measures  upon 
which  Mr.  Crewe  had  spent  so  much  time  and  labour  in 
the  last  Legislature. 

Austen  laid  down  the  paper,  leaned  back  in  his  chair, 
and  thrust  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  and  with  a  little  ver 
tical  pucker  in  his  forehead,  regarded  his  friend. 

"  What  do  you  think  of  that  ?  "  Tom  demanded.  "  Now, 
what  do  you  think  of  it?" 

"  I  think,"  said  Austen,  "  that  he'll  scare  the  life  out  of 
the  Northeastern  before  he  gets  through  with  them." 

"What!  "  exclaimed  Tom,  incredulously.  He  had 
always  been  willing  to  accept  Austen's  judgment  on  men 
and  affairs,  but  this  was  pretty  stiff.  "  What  makes  you 
think  so  ?  " 

"  Well,  people  don't  know  Mr.  Crewe,  for  one  thing. 
And  they  are  beginning  to  have  a  glimmer  of  light  upon 
the  Railroad." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  he  has  a  chance  for  the  nomina 
tion?"  ' 

"  I  don't  know.  It  depends  upon  how  much  the  voters 
find  out  about  him  before  the  convention." 

Tom  sat  down  rather  heavily. 

"You  could  have  been  governor,"  he  complained  re 
proachfully,  "by  raising  your  hand.  You've  got  more 
ability  than  any  man  in  the  State,  and  you  sit  here  gazin' 
at  that  mountain  and  lettin'  a  darned  fool  millionaire  walk 
in  ahead  of  you." 

Austen  rose  and  crossed  over  to  Mr.  Gaylord's  chair, 
and,  his  hands  still  in  his  pockets,  looked  down  thought 
fully  into  that  gentleman's  square  and  rugged  face. 

"  Tom,"  he  said,  "  there's  no  use  discussing  this  delusion 
of  yours,  which  seems  to  be  the  only  flaw  in  an  other 
wise  sane  character.  We  must  try  to  keep  it  from  the 
world." 

Tom  laughed  in  spite  of  himself. 

"  I'm  hanged  if  I  understand  you,"  he  declared,  "  but  1 


252  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

never  did.  You  think  Crewe  and  Tooting  may  carry  off 
the  governorship,  and  you  don't  seem  to  care." 

"  I  do  care,"  said  Austen,  briefly.  He  went  to  the  win 
dow  and  stood  for  a  moment  with  his  back  to  his  friend, 
staring  across  at  Sawanec.  Tom  had  learned  by  long 
experience  to  respect  these  moods,  although  they  were  to 
him  inexplicable.  At  length  Austen  turned. 

"Tom,"  he  said,  "can  you  come  in  to-morrow  about 
this  time  ?  If  you  can't,  I'll  go  to  your  office  if  you  will 
let  me  know  when  you'll  be  in.  There's  a  matter  of  busi 
ness  I  want  to  talk  to  you  about." 

Tom  pulled  out  his  watch. 

"I've  got  to  catch  a  train  for  Mercer,"  he  replied,  "but 
I  will  come  in  in  the  morning  and  see  you." 

A  quarter  of  an  hour  later  Austen  went  down  the  nar 
row  wooden  flight  of  stairs  into  the  street,  and  as  he 
emerged  from  the  entry  almost  bumped  into  the  figure  of 
a  young  man  that  was  hurrying  by.  He  reached  out  and 
grasped  the  young  man  by  the  collar,  pulling  him  up  so 
short  as  almost  to  choke  him. 

"  Hully  gee !  "  cried  the  young  man  whose  progress 
had  been  so  rudely  arrested.  "  Great  snakes  I  "  (A  cough.) 
"  What're  you  tryin'  to  do  ?  Oh,"  (apologetically)  "  it's 
you,  Aust.  Let  me  go.  This  day  ain't  long  enough  for 
me.  Let  me  go." 

Austen  kept  his  grip  and  regarded  Mr.  Tooting  thought 
fully. 

"  I  want  to  speak  to  you,  Ham,"  he  said ;  "  better  come 
upstairs." 

"  Say,  Aust,  on  the  dead,  I  haven't  time.  PardrifPs 
waitin'  for  some  copy  now." 

"  Just  for  a  minute,  Ham,"  said  Austen ;  "  I  won't  keep 
you  long." 

"Leggo  my  collar,  then,  if  you  don't  want  to  choke 
me.  Sav,  I  don't  believe  you  know  how  strong  you 
are." 

"I  didn't  know  you  wore  a  collar  any  more,  Ham," 
said  Austen. 

Mr.  Tooting  grinned  in  appreciation  of  this  joke. 


THE   DISTURBANCE   OF  JUNE   SEVENTH     253 

"You  must  think  you've  got  one  of  your  Wild  West 
necktie  parties  on,"  he  gasped.  "  I'll  come.  But  if 
you  love  me,  don't  let  the  boys  in  Hilary's  office  see  me." 

"  They  use  the  other  entry,"  answered  Austen,  indicat 
ing  that  Mr.  Tooting  should  go  up  first — which  he  did. 
When  they  reached  the  office  Austen  shut  the  door,  and 
stood  with  his  back  against  it,  regarding  Mr.  Tooting 
thoughtfully. 

At  first  Mr.  Tooting  returned  the  look  with  interest : 
swagger  —  aggression  would  be  too  emphatic,  and  defiance 
would  not  do.  His  was  the  air,  perhaps,  of  Talleyrand 
when  he  said,  "  There  seems  to  be  an  inexplicable  something 
in  me  that  brings  bad  luck  to  governments  that  neglect 
me : "  the  air  of  a  man  who  has  made  a  brilliant  coup 
d'£tat.  All  day  he  had  worn  that  air — since  five  o'clock  in 
the  morning,  when  he  had  sprung  from  his  pallet.  The 
world  might  now  behold  the  stuff  that  was  in  Hamilton 
Tooting.  Power  flowed  out  of  his  right  hand  from  an  in 
exhaustible  reservoir  which  he  had  had  the  sagacity  to  tap, 
and  men  leaped  into  action  at  his  touch.  He,  the  once 
neglected,  had  the  destiny  of  a  State  in  his  keeping. 

Gradually,  however,  it  became  for  some  strange  reason 
difficult  to  maintain  that  aggressive  stare  upon  Austen 
Vane,  who  shook  his  head  slowly. 

"  Ham,  why  did  you  do  it?  "  he  asked. 

"Why?"  cried  Mr.  Tooting,  fiercely  biting  back  a  trea 
sonable  smile.  "  Why  not  ?  Ain't  he  the  best  man  in 
the  State  to  make  a  winner?  Hasn't  he  got  the  money, 
and  the  brains,  and  the  get-up-and-git  ?  Why,  it's  a  sure 
thing.  I've  been  around  the  State,  and  I  know  the  senti 
ment.  We've  got  'em  licked,  right  now.  What  have 
you  got  against  it?  You're  on  our  side,  Aust." 

"  Ham,"  said  Austen,  "  are  you  sure  you  have  the  names 
and  addresses  of  those  twenty  prominent  citizens  right,  so 
that  any  voter  may  go  out  and  find  'em  ?  " 

"What  are  you  kidding  about,  Aust?"  retorted  Mr. 
Tooting,  biting  back  the  smile  again.  "  Say,  you  never  get 
down  to  business  with  me.  You  don't  blame  Crewe  for 
comin'  out,  do  you?  " 


254  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

"  I  don't  see  how  Mr.  Crewe  could  have  resisted  such  an 
overwhelming  demand,"  said  Austen.  "  He  couldn't 
shirk  such  a  duty.  He  says  so  himself,  doesn't  he  ?  " 

"  Oh,  go  on !  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Tooting,  who  was  not 
able  to  repress  a  grin. 

"The  letter  of  the  twenty  must  have  been  a  great 
surprise  to  Mr.  Crewe.  He  says  he  was  astonished. 
Did  the  whole  delegation  go  up  to  Leith,  or  only  a  com 
mittee?" 

Mr.  Tooting's  grin  had  by  this  time  spread  all  over  his 
face  —  a  flood  beyond  his  control. 

"  Well,  there's  no  use  puttin'  it  on  with  you,  Aust. 
That  was  done  pretty  slick,  that  twenty-prominent-citizen 
business,  if  I  do  say  it  myself.  But  you  don't  know  that 
feller  Crewe — he's  a  full-size  cyclone  when  he  gets  started, 
and  nothin'  but  a  range  of  mountains  could  stop  him." 

"It  must  be  fairly  exciting  to  —  ride  him,  Ham." 

"  Say,  but  it  just  is.  Kind  of  breathless,  though.  He 
ain't  very  well  known  around  the  State,  and  he  was  bound 
to  run  —  and  I  just  couldn't  let  him  come  out  without  any 
clothes  on." 

"I  quite  appreciate  your  delicacy,  Ham." 

Mr.  Tooting's  face  took  on  once  more  a  sheepish 
look,  which  changed  almost  immediately  to  one  of  dis 
quietude. 

"Say,  I'll  come  back  again  some  day  and  kid  with 
you.  I've  got  to  go,  Aust  —  that's  straight.  This  is  my 
busy  day." 

"  Wouldn't  you  gain  some  time  if  you  left  by  the 
window  ?  "  Austen  asked. 

At  this  suggestion  Mr.  Tooting's  expressive  countenance 
showed  genuine  alarm. 

"  Say,  you  ain't  going  to  put  up  any  Wild  West  tricks 
on  me,  are  you?  I  heard  you  nearly  flung  Tom  Gaylord 
out  of  the  one  in  the  other  room." 

"  If  this  were  a  less  civilized  place,  Ham,  I'd  initiate  you 
into  what  is  known  as  the  bullet  dance.  As  it  is,  I  have 
a  great  mind  to  speed  you  on  your  way  by  assisting  you 
downstairs." 


THE   DISTURBANCE  OF  JUNE  SEVENTH    255 

Mr.  Hamilton  Tooting  became  ashy  pale. 

"I  haven't  done  anything  to  you,  Aust.  Say  —  you 
didn't  —  ?  "  He  did  not  finish. 

Terrified  by  something  in  Austen's  eye,  which  may  or 
may  not  have  been  there  at  the  time  of  the  Blodgett  inci 
dent,  Mr.  Tooting  fled  without  completing  his  inquiry. 
And,  his  imagination  being  great,  he  reproduced  for  him 
self  such  a  vivid  sensation  of  a  bullet-hole  in  his  spine 
that  he  missed  his  footing  near  the  bottom,  and  measured 
his  length  in  the  entry.  Such  are  the  humiliating  ex 
periences  which  sometimes  befall  the  Talley rands  —  but 
rarely  creep  into  their  biographies. 

Austen,  from  the  top  of  the  stairway,  saw  this  catas 
trophe,  but  did  not  smile.  He  turned  on  his  heel,  and 
made  his  way  slowly  around  the  corner  of  the  passage 
into  the  other  part  of  the  building,  and  paused  at  the 
open  doorway  of  the  Honourable  Hilary's  outer  office. 
By  the  street  windows  sat  the  Honourable  Brush  Bascom, 
sphinx-like,  absorbing  wisdom  and  clouds  of  cigar  smoke 
which  emanated  from  the  Honourable  Nat  Billings. 

"  Howdy,  Austen?  "  said  Brush,  genially,  "lookin'  for  the 
Honourable  Hilary?  Flint  got  up  from  New  York  this 
morning,  and  sent  for  him  a  couple  of  hours  ago.  He'll 
be  back  at  two." 

"  Have  you  read  the  pronunciamento  ?  "  inquired  Mr. 
Billings.  "  Say,  Austen,  knowin'  your  sentiments,  I  won 
der  you  weren't  one  of  the  twenty  prominent  citizens." 

"  All  you  anti-railroad  fellers  ought  to  get  together," 
Mr.  Bascom  suggested;  "  you've  got  us  terrified  since  your 
friend  from  Leith  turned  the  light  of  publicity  on  us  this 
morning.  I  hear  Ham  Tooting's  been  in  and  made  you 
an  offer." 

News  travels  fast  in  Ripton. 

"  Austen  kicked  him  downstairs,"  said  Jimmy  Towle, 
the  office  boy,  who  had  made  a  breathless  entrance  dur 
ing  the  conversation,  and  felt  it  to  be  the  psychological 
moment  to  give  vent  to  the  news  with  which  he  was 
bursting. 

"  Is  that  straight?"  Mr.  Billings  demanded.     He  wished 


256  MR.   CREWE'S  CAREER 

he  had  done  it  himself.  "  Is  that  straight?  "  he  repeated, 
but  Austen  had  gone. 

"  Of  course  it's  straight,"  said  Jimmy  Towle,  vigorously. 
A  shrewd  observer  of  human  nature,  he  had  little  respect 
for  Senator  Billings.  "  Ned  Johnson  saw  him  pick  him 
self  up  at  the  foot  of  Austen's  stairway." 

The  Honourable  Brush's  agate  eyes  caught  the  light, 
and  he  addressed  Mr.  Billings  in  a  voice  which,  by  dint 
of  long  training,  only  carried  a  few  feet. 

"There's  the  man  the  Northeastern's  got  to  look  out 
for,"  he  said.  "The  Humphrey  Crewes  don't  count. 
But  if  Austen  Vane  ever  gets  started,  there'll  be  trouble. 
Old  man  Flint's  got  some  such  idea  as  that,  too.  I  over 
heard  him  givin'  it  to  old  Hilary  once,  up  at  Fairview, 
and  Hilary  said  he  couldn't  control  him.  I  guess  no 
body  else  can  control  him.  I  wish  I'd  seen  him  kick  Ham 
downstairs." 

"I'd  like  to  kick  him  downstairs,"  said  Mr.  Billings, 
savagely  biting  off  another  cigar. 

"  I  guess  you  hadn't  better  try  it,  Nat,"  said  Mr.  Bascom. 

Meanwhile  Austen  had  returned  to  his  own  office,  and 
shut  the  door.  His  luncheon  hour  came  and  went,  and 
still  he  sat  by  the  open  window  gazing  out  across  the 
teeming  plain,  arid  up  the  green  valley  whence  the  Blue 
came  singing  from  the  highlands.  In  spirit  he  followed 
the  water  to  Leith,  and  beyond,  where  it  swung  in  a  wide 
circle  and  hurried  between  wondrous  hills  like  those  in 
the  backgrounds  of  the  old  Italians :  hills  of  close-cropped 
pastures,  dotted  with  shapely  sentinel  oaks  and  maples 
which  cast  sharp,  rounded  shadows  on  the  slopes  at  noon 
day  ;  with  thin  fantastic  elms  on  the  gentle  sky-lines,  and 
forests  massed  here  and  there  —  silent,  impenetrable : 
hills  from  a  story-book  of  a  land  of  mystery.  The  river 
coursed  between  them  on  its  rocky  bed,  flinging  its  myriad 
gems  to  the  sun.  This  was  the  Vale  of  the  Blue,  and  she 
had  touched  it  with  meaning  for  him,  and  gone. 

He  drew  from  his  coat  a  worn  pocket-book,  and  from 
the  pocket-book  a  letter.  It  was  dated  in  New  York  in 
February,  and  though  he  knew  it  by  heart  he  found  a 


THE  DISTURBANCE  OF  JUNE  SEVENTH    257 

strange  solace  in  the  pain  which  it  gave  him  to  reread  it. 
He  stared  at  the  monogram  on  the  paper,  which  seemed 
so  emblematic  of  her ;  for  he  had  often  reflected  that  her 
things  —  even  such  minute  insignia  as  this  —  belonged  to 
her.  She  impressed  them  not  only  with  her  taste,  but 
with  her  character.  The  entwined  letters,  V.  F.,  of  the 
design  were  not,  he  thought,  of  a  meaningless,  frivolous 
daintiness,  but  stood  for  something.  Then  he  read  the 
note  again.  It  was  only  a  note. 

"  MY  DEAR  MR.  VANE  :  I  have  come  back  to  find  my 
mother  ill,  and  I  am  taking  her  to  France.  We  are  sail 
ing,  unexpectedly,  to-morrow,  there  being  a  difficulty 
about  a  passage  later.  I  cannot  refrain  from  sending 
you  a  line  before  I  go  to  tell  you  that  I  did  you  an  injus 
tice.  You  will  no  doubt  think  it  strange  that  I  should 
write  to  you,  but  I  shall  be  troubled  until  it  is  off  my 
mind.  I  am  ashamed  to  have  been  so  stupid.  I  think 
I  know  now  why  you  would  not  consent  to  be  a  candidate, 
and  I  respect  you  for  it. 

"  Sincerely  your  friend, 

"VICTORIA  FLINT." 

What  did  she  know?  What  had  she  found  out?  Had 
she  seen  her  father  and  talked  to  him  ?  That  was  scarcely 
possible,  since  her  mother  had  been  ill  and  she  had  left  at 
once.  Austen  had  asked  himself  these  questions  many 
times,  and  was  no  nearer  the  solution.  He  had  heard 
nothing  of  her  since,  and  he  told  himself  that  perhaps  it 
was  better,  after  all,  that  she  was  still  away.  To  know 
that  she  was  at  Fairview,  and  not  to  be  able  to  see  her, 
were  torture  indeed. 

The  note  was  formal  enough,  and  at  times  he  pre 
tended  to  be  glad  that  it  was.  How  could  it  be  other 
wise?  And  why  should  he  interpret  her  interest  in  him 
in  other  terms  than  those  in  which  it  was  written?  She 
had  a  warm  heart  —  that  he  knew ;  and  he  felt  for  her  sake 
that  he  had  no  right  to  wish  for  more  than  the  note  ex 
pressed.  After  several  unsuccessful  attempts,  he  had 
answered  it  in  a  line,  "  I  thank  you,  and  I  understand." 


CHAPTER  XVI 

THE   "  BOOK   OF   ARGUMENTS "   IS   OPENED 

THE  Honourable  Hilary  Vane  returned  that  day  from 
Fairview  in  no  very  equable  frame  of  mind.  It  is  not  for 
us  to  be  present  at  the  Councils  on  the  Palatine  when 
the  "  Book  of  Arguments  "  is  opened,  and  those  fitting  the 
occasion  are  chosen  and  sent  out  to  the  faithful  who  own 
printing-presses  and  free  passes.  The  Honourable  Hilary 
Vane  bore  away  from  the  residence  of  his  emperor  a  great 
many  memoranda  in  an  envelope,  and  he  must  have  sighed 
as  he  drove  through  the  leafy  roads  for  Mr.  Hamilton 
Tooting,  with  his  fertile  mind  and  active  body.  A  year 
ago,  and  Mr.  Tooting  would  have  seized  these  memoranda 
of  majesty,  and  covered  their  margins  with  new  sugges 
tions  :  Mr.  Tooting,  on  occasions,  had  even  made  additions 
to  the  "Book  of  Arguments"  itself —  additions  which  had 
been  used  in  New  York  and  other  States  with  telling  effect 
against  Mr.  Crewes  there.  Mr.  Tooting  knew  by  heart  the 
time  of  going  to  press  of  every  country  newspaper  which 
had  passes  (in  exchange  for  advertising!).  It  was  two 
o'clock  when  the  Honourable  Hilary  reached  his  office, 
and  by  three  all  the  edicts  would  have  gone  forth,  and 
the  grape-shot  and  canister  would  have  been  on  their 
way  to  demolish  the  arrogance  of  this  petty  Lord  of 
Leith. 

"  Tooting's  a  dangerous  man,  Vane.  You  oughtn't  to 
have  let  him  go,"  Mr.  Flint  had  said.  "  I  don't  care  a 
snap  of  my  finger  for  the  other  fellow." 

How  Mr.  Tooting's  ears  would  have  burned,  and  how 
his  blood  would  have  sung  with  pride  to  have  heard  him 
self  called  dangerous  by  the  president  of  the  Northeastern ! 

258 


THE   "BOOK  OF   ARGUMENTS"   IS   OPENED    259 

He  who,  during  all  the  valuable  years  of  his  services,  had 
never  had  a  sign  that  that  potentate  was  cognizant  of  his 
humble  existence. 

The  Honourable  Brush  Bascom,  as  we  know,  was  a 
clever  man ;  and  although  it  had  never  been  given  him  to 
improve  on  the  "  Book  of  Arguments,"  he  had  ideas  of  his 
own.  On  reading  Mr.  Crewe's  defiance  that  morning,  he 
had,  with  characteristic  promptitude  and  a  desire  to  be 
useful,  taken  the  first  train  out  of  Putnam  for  Ripton,  to 
range  himself  by  the  side  of  the  Honourable  Hilary  in  the 
hour  of  need.  The  Feudal  System  anticipates,  and  Mr. 
Bascom  did  not  wait  for  a  telegram. 

On  the  arrival  of  the  chief  counsel  from  Fairview  other 
captains  had  put  in  an  appearance,  but  Mr.  Bascom  alone 
was  summoned,  by  a  nod,  into  the  private  office.  What 
passed  between  them  seems  too  sacred  to  write  about. 
The  Honourable  Hilary  would  take  one  of  the  slips  from 
the  packet  and  give  it  to  Mr.  Bascom. 

"  If  that  were  recommended,  editorially,  to  the  Hull 
Mercury,  it  might  serve  to  clear  away  certain  misconcep 
tions  in  that  section." 

"  Certain,"  Mr.  Bascom  would  reply. 

"  It  has  been  thought  wise,"  the  Honourable  Hilary  con 
tinued,  "  to  send  an  annual  to  the  G-roveton  News.  Roberts, 
his  name  is.  Suppose  you  recommend  to  Mr.  Roberts  that 
an  editorial  on  this  subject  would  be  timely." 

Slip  number^  two.  Mr.  Bascom  marks  it  Roberts.  Sub 
ject  :  "  What  would  the  State  do  without  the  Rail 
road?" 

"  And  Grenville,  being  a  Prohibition  centre,  you  might 
get  this  worked  up  for  the  Advertiser  there." 

Mr.  Bascom's  agate  eyes  are  full  of  light  as  ho  takes  slip 
number  three.  Subject :  "  Mr.  Humphrey  Crewe  has  the 
best-stocked  wine  cellar  in  the  State,  and  champagne  every 
night  for  dinner. "  Slip  number  four,  taken  direct  from  the 
second  chapter  of  the  "  Book  of  Arguments  "  :  "  Mr.  Crewe 
is  a  reformer  because  he  has  been  disappointed  in  his  inordi 
nate  ambitions,"  etc.  Slip  number  five  :  "  Mr.  Crewe  is  a 
summer  resident,  with  a  house  in  New  York,"  etc.,  etc. 


260  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

Slip  number  six,  "Book  of  Arguments,"  paragraph  1, 
chapter  1:  "Humphrey  Ore  we,  Defamer  of  our  State." 
Assigned,  among  others,  to  the  Ripton  Record. 

"Paul  Pardriff  went  up  to  Leith  to-day,"  said  Mr. 
Bascom. 

"  Go  to  see  him,"  replied  the  Honourable  Hilary.  "  I've 
been  thinking  for  some  time  that  the  advertising  in  the 
Ripton  Record  deserves  an  additional  annual." 

Mr.  Bascom,  having  been  despatched  on  this  business, 
and  having  voluntarily  assumed  control  of  the  Empire 
Bureau  of  Publication,  the  chief  counsel  transacted  other 
necessary  legal  business  with  State  Senator  Billings  and 
other  gentlemen  who  were  waiting.  At  three  o'clock 
word  was  sent  in  that  Mr.  Austen  Vane  was  outside,  and 
wished  to  speak  with  his  father  as  soon  as  the  latter  was  at 
leisure.  Whereupon  the  Honourable  Hilary  shooed  out 
the  minor  clients,  leaned  back  in  his  chair,  and  commanded 
that  his  son  be  admitted. 

"  Judge,"  said  Austen,  as  he  closed  the  door  behind  him, 
"  I  don't  want  to  bother  you." 

The  Honourable  Hilary  regarded  his  son  for  a  moment 
fixedly  out  of  his  little  eyes. 

"  Humph  I  "  he  said. 

Austen  looked  down  at  his  father.  The  Honourable 
Hilary's  expression  was  not  one  which  would  have  aroused, 
in  the  ordinary  man  who  beheld  him,  a  feeling  of  sympathy 
or  compassion :  it  was  the  impenetrable  look  with  which 
he  had  faced  his  opponents  for  many  years.  But  Austen 
felt  compassion. 

"  Perhaps  I'd  better  come  in  another  time  —  when  you 
are  less  busy,"  he  suggested. 

"Who  said  I  was  busy?"  inquired  the  Honourable 
Hilary. 

Austen  smiled  a  little  sadly.  One  would  have  thought, 
by  that  smile,  that  the  son  was  the  older  and  wiser  of  the 
two. 

"  I  didn't  mean  to  cast  any  reflection  on  your  habitual 
industry,  Judge,"  he  said. 

"  Humph  !  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Vane.     "  I've  got  more  to 


THE   "BOOK  OF  ARGUMENTS"   IS  OPENED    261 

do  than  sit  in  the  window  and  read  poetry,  if  that's 
what  you  mean." 

44  You  never  learned  how  to  enjoy  life,  did  you,  Judge?" 
he  said.  "  I  don't  believe  you  ever  really  had  a  good 
time.  Own  up." 

"  I've  had  sterner  things  to  think  about.  I've  had  to 
earn  my  living  —  and  give  you  a  good  time." 

"  I  appreciate  it,"  said  Austen. 

"Humph!  Sometimes  I  think  you  don't  show  it  a 
great  deal,"  the  Honourable  Hilary  answered. 

"  I  show  it  as  far  as  I  can,  Judge,"  said  his  son.  "  I 
can't  help  the  way  I  was  made." 

"  I  try  to  take  account  of  that,"  said  the  Honourable 
Hilary. 

Austen  laughed. 

"  I'll  drop  in  to-morrow  morning,"  he  said. 

But  the  Honourable  Hilary  pointed  to  a  chair  on  the 
other  side  of  the  desk. 

44  Sit  down.  To-day's  as  good  as  to-morrow,"  he  re 
marked,  with  sententious  significance,  characteristically 
throwing  the  burden  of  explanation  on  the  visitor. 

Austen  found  the  opening  unexpectedly  difficult.  He 
felt  that  this  was  a  crisis  in  their  relations,  and  that  it  had 
come  at  an  unfortunate  hour. 

44  Judge,"  he  said,  trying  to  control  the  feeling  that 
threatened  to  creep  into  his  voice,  44  we  have  jogged  along 
for  some  years  pretty  peaceably,  and  I  hope  you  won't 
misunderstand  what  I'm  going  to  say." 

The  Honourable  Hilary  grunted. 

44  It  was  at  your  request  that  I  went  into  the  law.  I 
have  learned  to  like  that  profession.  I  have  stuck  to  it 
as  well  as  my  wandering,  Bohemian  nature  will  permit, 
and  while  I  do  not  expect  you  necessarily  to  feel  any  pride 
in  sucli  progress  as  I  have  made,  I  have  hoped  —  that  you 
might  feel  an  interest." 

The  Honourable  Hilary  grunted  again. 

"  I  suppose  I  am  by  nature  a  free-lance,"  Austen  con 
tinued.  44  You  were  good  enough  to  acknowledge  the  force 
of  my  argument  when  I  told  you  it  would  be  best  for  me 


262  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

to  strike  out  for  myself.  And  I  suppose  it  was  inevitable, 
such  being  the  case,  and  you  the  chief  counsel  for  the 
Northeastern  Railroads,  that  I  should  at  some  time  or 
another  be  called  upon  to  bring  suits  against  your  client. 
It  would  have  been  better,  perhaps,  if  I  had  not  started  to 
practise  in  this  State.  I  did  so  from  what  I  believe  was 
a  desire  common  to  both  of  us  to  —  to  live  together." 

The  Honourable  Hilary  reached  for  his  Honey  Dew, 
but  he  did  not  speak. 

"  To  live  together,"  Austen  repeated.  "  I  want  to  say 
that,  if  I  had  gone  away,  I  believe  I  should  always  have 
regretted  the  fact."  He  paused,  and  took  from  his  pocket 
a  slip  of  paper.  "  I  made  up  my  mind  from  the  start  that 
I  would  always  be  frank  with  you.  In  spite  of  my  desire 
to  amass  riches,  there  are  some  .suits  against  the  North 
eastern  which  I  have  —  somewhat  quixotically — refused. 
Here  is  a  section  of  the  act  which  permitted  the  consoli 
dation  of  the  Northeastern  Railroads.  You  are  no  doubt 
aware  of  its  existence." 

The  Honourable  Hilary  took  the  slip  of  paper  in  his 
hand  and  stared  at  it.  "  The  rates  for  fares  and  freights 
existing  at  the  time  of  the  passage  of  this  act  shall  not  be  in 
creased  on  the  roads  leased  or  united  under  it."  What  his 
sensations  were  when  he  read  it  no  man  might  have  read 
in  his  face,  but  his  hand  trembled  a  little,  and  a  long  si 
lence  ensued  before  he  gave  it  back  to  his  son  with  the 
simple  comment :  — 

"Well?" 

"  I  do  not  wish  to  be  understood  to  ask  your  legal  opin 
ion,  although  you  probably  know  that  lumber  rates  have 
been  steadily  raised,  and  if  a  suit  under  that  section  were 
successful  the  Gaylord  Lumber  Company  could  recover  a 
very  large  sum  of  money  from  the  Northeastern  Rail 
roads,"  said  Austen.  "  Having  discovered  the  section,  I 
believe  it  to  be  my  duty  to  call  it  to  the  attention  of  the 
Gaylords.  What  I  wish  to  know  is,  whether  my  taking 
the  case  would  cause  you  any  personal  inconvenience  or 
distress  ?  If  so,  I  will  refuse  it." 

"No,"    answered   the    Honourable    Hilary,    "it   won't. 


THE   "BOOK  OF  ARGUMENTS"   IS   OPENED    26£ 

Bring  suit.     Much  use  it'll  be.     Do  you  expect  they  can 
recover  under  that  section?  " 

"  I  think  it  is  worth  trying,"  said  Austen. 

"  Why  didn't  somebody  try  it  before  ?  "  asked  the  Hon 
ourable  Hilary. 

"  See  here,  Judge,  I  wish  you'd  let  me  out  of  an  argu 
ment  about  it.  Suit  is  going  to  be  brought,  whether  I 
bring  it  or  another  man.  If  you  would  prefer  for  any 
reason  that  I  shouldn't  bring  it — I  won't.  I'd  much 
rather  resign  as  counsel  for  the  Gaylords  —  and  I  am 
prepared  to  do  so." 

u  Bring  suit,"  answered  the  Honourable  Hilary,  quickly, 
"bring  suit  by  all  means.  And  now's  your  time.  This 
seems  to  be  a  popular  season  for  attacking  the  property 
which  is  the  foundation  of  the  State's  prosperity."  ("  Book 
of  Arguments,"  chapter  3.) 

In  spite  of  himself,  Austen  smiled  again.  Long  habit 
had  accustomed  Hilary  Vane  to  put  business  considerations 
before  family  ties;  and  this  habit  had  been  the  secret  of  his 
particular  success.  And  now,  rather  than  admit  by  the 
least  sign  the  importance  of  his  son's  discovery  of  the 
statute  (which  he  had  had  in  mind  for  many  years,  and 
to  which  he  had  more  than  once,  by  the  way,  called  Mr. 
Flint's  attention),  the  Honourable  Hilary  deliberately 
belittled  the  matter  as  part  and  parcel  of  the  political  tac 
tics  against  the  Northeastern. 

Scars  caused  by  differences  of  opinion  are  soon  healed; 
words  count  for  nothing,  and  it  is  the  soul  that  attracts  or 
repels.  Mr.  Vane  was  not  analytical,  he  had  been  through 
a  harassing  day,  and  he  was  unaware  that  it  was  not 
Austen's  opposition,  but  Austen's  smile,  which  set  the  torch 
to  his  anger.  Once,  shortly  after  his  marriage,  when  he 
had  come  home  in  wrath  after  a  protracted  quarrel  with 
Mr.  Tredway  over  the  orthodoxy  of  the  new  minister, 
in  the  middle  of  his  indignant  recital  of  Mr.  Tredway's 
unwarranted  attitude,  Sarah  Austen  had  smiled.  The 
smile  had  had  in  it,  to  be  sure,  nothing  of  conscious  supe 
riority,  but  it  had  been  utterly  inexplicable  to  Hilary  Vane. 
He  had  known  for  the  first  time  what  it  was  to  feel 


264  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

murder  in  the  heart,  and  if  he  had  not  rushed  out  of  the 
room,  he  was  sure  he  would  have  strangled  her.  After 
all,  the  Hilary  Vanes  of  this  world  cannot  reasonably  be 
expected  to  perceive  the  humour  in  their  endeavours. 

Now  the  son's  smile  seemed  the  reincarnation  of  the 
mother's.  That  smile  was  in  itself  a  refutation  of  motive 
on  Austen's  part  which  no  words  could  have  made  more 
emphatic;  it  had  in  it  (unconsciously,  too)  compassion  for 
and  understanding  of  the  Honourable  Hilary's  mood  and 
limitations.  Out  of  the  corner  of  his  mental  vision  — 
without  grasping  it  —  the  Honourable  Hilary  perceived 
this  vaguely.  It  was  the  smile  in  which  a  parent  privately 
indulges  when  a  child  kicks  his  toy  locomotive  because  its 
mechanism  is  broken.  It  was  the  smile  of  one  who,  un- 
forgetful  of  the  scheme  of  the  firmament  and  the  spinning 
planets,  will  not  be  moved  to  anger  by  him  who  sees  but 
the  four  sides  of  a  pit. 

Hilary  Vane  grew  red  around  the  eyes  —  a  danger  signal 
of  the  old  days. 

"  Take  the  suit,"  he  said.  "  If  you  don't,  I'll  make  it 
known  all  over  the  State  that  you  started  it.  I'll  tell  Mr. 
Flint  to-morrow.  Take  it,  do  you  hear  me?  You  ask  me 
if  I  have  any  pride  in  you.  I  answer,  yes.  I'd  like  to  see 
what  you  can  do.  I've  done  what  I  could  for  you,  and 
now  I  wash  my  hands  of  you.  Go,  ruin  yourself  if  you 
want  to.  You've  always  been  headed  that  way,  and  there's 
no  use  trying  to  stop  you.  You  don't  seem  to  have  any 
notion  of  decency  or  order,  or  any  idea  of  the  principle  on 
which  this  government  was  based.  Attack  property  — 
destroy  it.  So  much  the  better  for  you  and  your  kind. 
Join  the  Humphrey  Crewes  —  you  belong  with  'em.  Give 
those  of  us  who  stand  for  order  and  decency  as  much 
trouble  as  you  can.  Brand  us  as  rascals  trying  to  enrich 
ourselves  with  politics,  and  proclaim  yourselves  saints 
nobly  striving  to  get  back  the  rights  of  the  people.  If 
you  don't  bring  that  suit,  I  tell  you  I'll  give  you  the  credit 
for  it —  and  I  mean  what  I  say." 

Austen  got  to  his  feet.  His  own  expression,  curiously 
enough,  had  not  changed  to  one  of  anger.  His  face  had 


THE   "BOOK  OF   ARGUMENTS"   IS   OPENED    265 

set,  but  his  eyes  held  the  look  that  seemed  still  to  express 
compassion,  and  what  he  felt  was  a  sorrow  that  went  to 
the  depths  of  his  nature.  What  he  had  so  long  feared 
—  what  he  knew  they  had  both  feared  —  had  come  at 
last. 

"  Good-by,  Judge,"  he  said. 

Hilary  Vane  stared  at  him  dumbly.  His  anger  had 
not  cooled,  his  eyes  still  flamed,  but  he  suddenly  found 
himself  bereft  of  speech.  Austen  put  his  hand  on  his 
father's  shoulder,  and  looked  down  silently  into  his  face. 
But  Hilary  was  stiff  as  in  a  rigour,  expressionless  save  for 
the  defiant  red  in  his  eye. 

"  I  don't  think  you  meant  all  that,  Judge,  and  I  don't 
intend  to  hold  it  against  you." 

Still  Hilary  stared,  his  lips  in  the  tight  line  which  was  the 
emblem  of  his  character,  his  body  rigid.  He  saw  his  son 
turn  and  walk  to  the  door,  and  turn  again  with  his  handle 
on  the  knob,  and  Hilary  did  not  move.  The  door  closed, 
and  still  he  sat  there,  motionless,  expressionless. 

Austen  was  hailed  by  those  in  the  outer  office,  but  he 
walked  through  them  as  though  the  place  were  empty. 
Rumours  sprang  up  behind  him  of  which  he  was  uncon 
scious;  the  long-expected  quarrel  had  come;  Austen  had 
joined  the  motley  ranks  of  the  rebels  under  Mr.  Crewe. 
Only  the  office  boy,  Jimmy  Towle,  interrupted  the  jokes 
that  were  flying  by  repeating,  with  dogged  vehemence, 
"  I  tell  you  it  ain't  so.  Austen  kicked  Ham  downstairs. 
Ned  Johnson  saw  him."  Nor  was  it  on  account  of  this 
particular  deed  that  Austen  was  a  hero  in  Jimmy's  eyes. 

Austen,  finding  himself  in  the  square,  looked  at  his 
watch.  It  was  four  o'clock.  He  made  his  way  under  the 
maples  to  the  house  in  Hanover  Street,  halted  for  a  mo 
ment  contemplatively  before  the  familiar  classic  pillars  of 
its  porch,  took  a  key  from  his  pocket,  and  (unprecedented 
action!)  entered  by  the  front  door.  Climbing  to  the 
attic,  he  found  two  valises  —  one  of  which  he  had  brought 
back  from  Pepper  County — and  took  them  to  his  own 
room.  ^They  held,  with  a  little  crowding,  most  of  his 
possessions,  including  a  photograph  of  Sarah  Austen, 


266  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

which  he  left  on  the  bureau  to  the  last.  Once  or  twice  he 
paused  in  his  packing  to  gaze  at  the  face,  striving  to  fathom 
the  fleeting  quality  of  her  glance  which  the  photograph 
had  so  strangely  caught.  In  that  glance  nature  had 
stamped  her  enigma — for  Sarah  Austen  was  a  child  of 
nature.  Hers  was  the  gentle  look  of  wild  things — but 
it  was  more;  it  was  the  understanding  of  the  unwritten 
law  of  creation,  the  law  by  which  the  flowers  grow,  and 
wither;  the  law  by  which  the  animal  springs  upon  its 
prey,  and,  unerring,  seeks  its  mate ;  the  law  of  the  song 
of  the  waters,  and  the  song  of  the  morning  stars ;  the  law 
that  permits  evil  and  pain  and  dumb,  incomprehensible 
suffering ;  the  law  that  floods  at  sunset  the  mountain 
lands  with  colour  and  the  soul  with  light,  and  the  law  that 
rends  the  branches  in  the  blue  storm.  Of  what  avail  was 
anger  against  it,  or  the  puny  rage  of  man?  Hilary  Vane, 
not  recognizing  it,  had  spent  his  force  upon  it,  like  a  hawk 
against  a  mountain  wall,  but  Austen  looked  at  his  mother's 
face  and  understood.  In  it  was  not  the  wisdom  of  creeds 
and  cities,  but  the  unworldly  wisdom  which  comprehends 
and  condones. 

His  packing  finished,  with  one  last  glance  at  the  room 
Austen  went  downstairs  with  his  valises  and  laid  them  on 
the  doorstep.  i  Then  he  went  to  the  stable  and  harnessed 
Pepper,  putting  into  the  buggy  his  stable  blanket  and 
halter  and  currycomb,  and,  driving  around  to  the  front  of 
the  house,, hitched  the  horse  at  the  stone  post,  and  packed 
the  valises  in  the  back  of  the  buggy.  After  that  he 
walked  slowly  to  the  back  of  the  house  and  looked  in  at 
the  kitchen  window.  Euphrasia,  her  thin  arms  bare  to 
the  elbow,  was  bending  over  a  wash-tub.  He  spoke  her 
name,  and  as  she  lifted  her  head  a  light  came  into  her 
face  which  seemed  to  make  her  young  again.  She  dried 
her  hands  hastily  on  her  apron  as  she  drew  towards  him. 
He  sprang  through  the  window,  and  patted  her  on  the 
back  —  his  usual  salutation.  And  as  she  raised  her  eyes 
to  his  (those  ordinarily  sharp  eyes  of  Euphrasia's),  they 
shone  with  an  admiration  she  had  accorded  to  no  other 
human  being  since  he  had  come  into  the  world.  Terms 


THE   "BOOK  OF  ARGUMENTS77   IS   OPENED    267 

of  endearment  she  had,  characteristically,  never  used,  but 
she  threw  her  soul  into  the  sounding  of  his  name. 

"  Off  to  the  hills,  Austen  ?  I  saw  you  a-harnessing  of 
Pepper." 

"  Phrasie,"  he  said,  still  patting  her,  "  I'm  going  to  the 
country  for  a  while." 

"  To  the  country  ?  "  she  repeated. 

"To  stay  on  a  farm  for  a  sort  of  vacation." 

Her  face  brightened. 

"  Goin'  to  take  a  real  vacation,  be  you  ?  " 

He  laughed. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  have  to  work  very  hard,  Phrasie.  You 
know  I  get  out  a  good  deal.  I  just  thought  —  I  just 
thought  I'd  like  to  sleep  in  the  country — for  a  while." 

"  Well,"  answered  Euphrasia,  "  I  guess  if  you've  took 
the  notion,  you've  got  to  go.  It  was  that  way  with  your 
mother  before  you.  I've  seen  her  leave  the  house  on  a 
bright  Sabbath  half  an  hour  before  meetin'  to  be  gone 
the  whole  day,  and  Hilary  and  all  the  ministers  in  town 
couldn't  stop  her." 

"  I'll  drop  in  once  in  a  while  to  see  you,  Phrasie.  I'll 
be  at  Jabe  Jenney's." 

"Jabe's  is  not  more  than  three  or  four  miles  from 
Flint's  place,"  Euphrasia  remarked. 

"  I've  thought  of  that,"  said  Austen. 

"  You'd  thought  of  it !  " 

Austen  coloured. 

"The  distance  is  nothing,"  he  said  quickly,  "with 
Pepper." 

"  And  you'll  come  and  see  me  ?  "  asked  Euphrasia. 

"  If  you'll  do  something  for  me,"  he  said. 

"  I  always  do  what  you  want,  Austen.  You  know  I'm 
not  able  to  refuse  you." 

He  laid  his  hands  on  her  shoulders. 

"  You'll  promise  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  I'll  promise,"  said  Euphrasia,  solemnly. 

He  was  silent  for  a  moment,  looking  down  at  her. 

"  I  want  you  to  promise  to  stay  here  and  take  care  of 
the  Judge." 


268  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

Fright  crept  into  her  eyes,  but  his  own  were  smiling, 
reassuring. 

"  Take  care  of  him !  "  she  cried,  the  very  mention  of 
Hilary  raising  the  pitch  of  her  voice.  "  I  guess  I'll  have 
to.  Haven't  I  took  care  of  him  nigh  on  forty  years,  and 
small  thanks  and  recompense  I  get  for  it  except  when 
you're  here.  I've  wore  out  my  life  takin'  care  of.  him  " 
(more  gently).  "  What  do  you  mean  by  makin'  me  prom 
ise  such  a  thing,  Austen  ?  " 

"  Well,"  said  Austen,  slowly,  "  the  Judge  is  worried 
now.  Things  are  not  going  as  smoothly  with  him  as  — 
as  usual." 

"  Money  ? "  demanded  Euphrasia.  "  He  ain't  lost 
money,  has  he  ?  " 

A  light  began  to  dance  in  Austen's  eyes  in  spite  of  the 
weight  within  him. 

"Now,  Phrasie,"  he  said,  lifting  her  chin  a  little,  "you 
know  you  don't  care  any  more  about  money  than  I  do." 

"  Lord  help  me,"  she  exclaimed,  "  Lord  help  me  if  I 
didn't !  And  as  long  as  you  don't  care  for  it,  and  no 
sense  can  be  knocked  into  your  head  about  it,  I  hope 
you'll  marry  somebody  that  does  know  the  value  of  it. 
If  Hilary  was  to  lose  what  he  has  now,  before  it  comes 
rightly  to  you,  he'd  ought  to  be  put  in  jail." 

Austen  laughed,  and  shook  his  head. 

"  Phrasie,  the  Lord  did  you  a  grave  injustice  when  he 
didn't  make  you  a  man,  but  I  suppose  he'll  give  you  a 
recompense  hereafter.  No,  I  believe  I  am  safe  in  saying 
that  the  Judge's  securities  are  still  —  secure.  Not  that  I 
really  know  —  or  care  "  (shakes  of  the  head  from  Euphra 
sia).  "Poor  old  Judge!  Worse  things  than  finance  are 
troubling  him  now." 

"  Not  a  woman  ! "  cried  Euphrasia,  horror-stricken  at 
the  very  thought.  "  He  hasn't  took  it  into  his  head  after 
all  these  years  —  " 

"  No,"  said  Austen,  laughing,  "  no,  no.  It's  not  quite 
as  bad  as  that,  but  it's  pretty  bad." 

"  In  Heaven's  name,  what  is  it  ?  "  she  demanded. 

"  Reformers,"  said  Austen. 


THE   "BOOK  OF   ARGUMENTS"   IS   OPENED    269 

"  Reformers  ?  "  she  repeated.    "  What  might  they  be  ?  " 

"Well,"  answered  Austen,  "you  might  call  them  a 
new  kind  of  caterpillar — only  they  feed  on  corporations 
instead  of  trees." 

Euphrasia  shook  her  head  vigorously. 

"  Go  'long,"  she  exclaimed.  "  When  you  talk  like  that 
I  never  can  follow  you,  Austen.  If  Hilary  has  any  wor 
ries,  I  guess  he  brought  'em  on  himself.  I  never  knew 
him  to  fail." 

"  Ambitious  and  designing  persons  are  making  trouble 
for  his  railroad." 

"  Well,  I  never  took  much  stock  in  that  railroad,"  said 
Euphrasia,  with  emphasis.  "  I  never  was  on  it  but  an 
engine  gave  out,  and  the  cars  was  jammed,  and  it  wasn't 
less  than  an  hour  late.  And  then  they're  eternally 
smashin'  folks  or  runnin'  'em  down.  You  served  'em 
right  when  you  made  *em  pay  that  Meader  man  six 
thousand  dollars,  and  I  told  Hilary  so."  She  paused, 
and  stared  at  Austen  fixedly  as  a  thought  came  into  her 
head.  "  You  ain't  leavin'  him  because  of  this  trouble,  are 
you,  Austen  ?  " 

"Phrasie,"  he  said,  "I  —  I  don't  want  to  quarrel  with 
him  now.  I  think  it  would  be  easy  to  quarrel  with  him." 

"You  mean  him  quarrel  with  you,"  returned  Euphrasia. 
"  I'd  like  to  see  him  !  If  he  did,  it  wouldn't  take  me  long 
to  pack  up  and  leave." 

"  That's  just  it.  I  don't  want  that  to  happen.  And 
I've  had  a  longing  to  go  out  and  pay  a  little  visit  to  Jabe 
up  in  the  hills,  and  drive  his  colts  for  him.  You  see,"  he 
said,  "  I've  got  a  kind  of  affection  for  the  Judge." 

Euphrasia  looked  at  him,  and  her  lips  trembled. 

"He  don't  deserve  it,"  she  declared,  "but  I  suppose 
he's  your  father." 

"  He  can't  get  out  of  that,"  said  Austen. 

"  I'd  like  to  see  him  try  it,"  said  Euphrasia.  "  Come 
in  soon,  Austen,"  she  whispered,  "come  in  soon." 

She  stood  on  the  lawn  and  watched  him  as  he  drove 
away,  and  he  waved  good-by  to  her  over  the  hood  of  the 
buggy.  When  he  was  out  of  sight  she  lifted  her  head, 


270  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

gave  her  eyes  a  vigorous  brush  with  her  checked  apron, 
and  went  back  to  her  washing. 

It  was  not  until  Euphrasia  had  supper  on  the  table  that 
Hilary  Vane  came  home,  and  she  glanced  at  him  sharply 
as  he  took  his  usual  seat.  It  is  a  curious  fact  that  it  is 
possible  for  two  persons  to  live  together  for  more  than 
a  third  of  a  century,  and  at  the  end  of  that  time  under 
stand  each  other  little  better  than  at  the  beginning. 
The  sole  bond  between  Euphrasia  and  Hilary  was  that  of 
Sarah  Austen  and  her  son.  Euphrasia  never  knew  when 
Hilary  was  tired,  or  when  he  was  cold,  or  hungry,  or  cross, 
although  she  provided  for  all  these  emergencies.  Her 
service  to  him  was  unflagging,  but  he  had  never  been  un 
der  the  slightest  delusion  that  it  was  not  an  inheritance 
from  his  wife.  There  must  have  been  some  affection 
between  Mr.  Vane  and  his  housekeeper,  hidden  away  in 
the  strong  boxes  of  both,  but  up  to  the  present  this  was 
only  a  theory  —  not  quite  as  probable  as  that  about  the 
inhabitants  of  Mars. 

He  ate  his  supper  to-night  with  his  usual  appetite, 
which  had  always  been  sparing  ;  and  he  would  have 
eaten  the  same  amount  if  the  Northeastern  Railroads  had 
been  going  into  the  hands  of  a  receiver  the  next  day. 
Often  he  did  not  exchange  a  word  with  Euphrasia  be 
tween  home-coming  and  bed-going,  and  this  was  appar 
ently  to  be  one  of  these  occasions.  After  supper  he  went, 
as  usual,  to  sit  on  the  steps  of  his  porch,  and  to  cut  his  piece 
of  Honey  Dew,  which  never  varied  a  milligram.  Nine 
o'clock  struck,  and  Euphrasia,  who  had  shut  up  the  back 
of  the  house,  was  on  her  way  to  bed  with  her  lamp  in  her 
hand,  when  she  came  face  to  face  with  him  in  the  narrow 
passageway. 

"  Where's  Austen?  "  he  asked. 

Euphrasia  halted.  The  lamp  shook,  but  she  raised  it 
to  the  level  of  his  eyes. 

"  Don't  you  know  ?  "  she  demanded. 

"  No,"  he  said,  with  unparalleled  humility. 

She  put  down  the  lamp  on  the  little  table  that  stood 
beside  her. 


THE   "BOOK  OF   ARGUMENTS"   IS   OPENED    271 

"  He  didn't  tell  you  he  was  a-goin'  ?  " 

"No,"  said  Hilary. 

"  Then  how  did  you  know  he  wasn't  just  buggy-ridin'  ?  " 
she  said. 

Hilary  Vane  was  mute. 

"  You've  be'n  to  his  room !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  You've 
seen  his  things  are  gone  !  " 

He  confessed  it  by  his  silence.  Then,  with  amazing 
swiftness  and  vigour  for  one  of  her  age,  Euphrasia  seized 
him  by  the  arms  and  shook  him. 

"What  have  you  done  to  him?  "  she  cried;  "  what  have 
you  done  to  him?  You  sent  him  off.  You've  never 
understood  him  —  you've  never  behaved  like  a  father  to 
him.  You  ain't  worthy  to  have  him."  She  flung  herself 
away  and  stood  facing  Hilary  at  a  little  distance.  "  What 
a  fool  I  was  !  What  a  fool !  I  might  have  known  it,  — 
and  I  promised  him." 

"Promised  him?"  Hilary  repeated.  The  shaking,  the 
vehemence  and  anger,  of  Euphrasia  seemed  to  have  had 
no  effect  whatever  on  the  main  trend  of  his  thoughts. 

"  Where  has  he  gone  ?  " 

"  You  can  find  out  for  yourself,"  she  retorted  bitterly. 
"  I  wish  on  your  account  it  was  to  China.  He  came  here 
this  afternoon,  as  gentle  as  ever,  and  packed  up  his 
things,  and  said  he  was  goin'  away  because  you  was 
worried.  Worried  !  "  she  exclaimed  scornfully.  "  His 
worry  and  Ms  trouble  don't  count  —  but  yours.  And  he 
made  me  promise  to  stay  with  you.  If  it  wasn't  for  him," 
she  cried,  picking  up  the  lamp,  "  I'd  leave  you  this  very 
night." 

She  swept  past  him,  and  up  the  narrow  stairway  to  her 
bedroom. 


CHAPTER    XVII 

BUSY  DAYS   AT   WEDDERBURN 

THERE  is  no  blast  so  powerful,  so  withering,  as  the  blast 
of  ridicule.  Only  the  strongest  men  can  withstand  it,  — 
only  reformers  who  are  such  in  deed,  and  not  alone  in 
name,  can  snap  their  fingers  at  it,  and  liken  it  to  the 
crackling  of  thorns  under  a  pot.  Confucius  and  Martin 
Luther  must  have  been  ridiculed,  Mr.  Crewe  reflected,  and 
although  he  did  not  have  time  to  assure  himself  on  these 
historical  points,  the  thought  stayed  him.  Sixty  odd 
weekly  newspapers,  filled  with  arguments  from  the  Book, 
attacked  him  all  at  once ;  and  if  by  chance  he  should  have 
missed  the  best  part  of  this  flattering  personal  attention, 
the  editorials  which  contained  the  most  spice  were  copied 
at  the  end  of  the  week  into  the  columns  of  his  erstwhile 
friend,  the  State  Tribune,  now  the  organ  of  that  mysterious 
personality,  the  Honourable  Adam  B.  Hunt.  Et  tu,  Brute  ! 

Moreover,  Mr.  Peter  Pardriff  had  something  of  his  own 
to  say.  Some  gentlemen  of  prominence  (not  among  the 
twenty  signers  of  the  new  Declaration  of  Independence) 
had  been  interviewed  by  the  Tribune  reporter  on  the  sub 
ject  of  Mr.  Crewe's  candidacy.  Here  are  some  of  the 
answers,  duly  tabulated. 

"Negligible."  —  Congressman  Fairplay. 

"One  less  vote  for  the  Honourable  Adam  B.  Hunt."  — 
The  Honourable  Jacob  Botcher. 

"  A  monumental  farce ."  —  Ex-Governor  Broadbent. 

"  Who  is  Mr.  Crewe  ?  "  —  Senator  Whitredge.  (Ah  ha! 
Senator,  this  want  shall  be  supplied,  at  least.) 

"  I  have  been  very  busy.  I  do  not  knoiv  what  candidates 
are  in  the  field."  —  Mr.  Augustus  P.  Flint,  president  of 
the  Northeastern  Railroads.  (The  unkindest  cut  of  all!) 

272 


BUSY   DAYS   AT   WEDDERBURN  273 

"  1 "have  heard  that  a  Mr.  Orewe  is  a  candidate,  but  I  do 
not  know  much  about  him.  They  tell  me  he  is  a  summer  resi 
dent  at  Leith."  —  The  Honourable  Hilary  Vane. 

"A  millionaire's  freak  —  not  to  be  taken  seriously."  — 
State  Senator  Nathaniel  Billings. 

The  State  Tribune  itself  seemed  to  be  especially  interested 
in  the  past  careers  of  the  twenty  signers.  Who  composed 
this  dauntless  band,  whose  members  had  arisen  with  re 
markable  unanimity  and  martyr's  zeal  in  such  widely 
scattered  parts  of  the  State?  Had  each  been  simulta 
neously  inspired  with  the  same  high  thought,  and  —  more 
amazing  still  —  with  the  idea  of  the  same  peerless  leader  ? 
The  Tribune  modestly  ventured  the  theory  that  Mr.  Crewe 
had  appeared  to  each  of  the  twenty  in  a  dream,  with  a 
flaming  sword  pointing  to  the  steam  of  the  dragon's 
breath.  Or,  perhaps,  a  star  had  led  each  of  the  twenty  to 

Leith.  (This  likening  of  Mr.  H n  T g  to  a  star 

caused  much  merriment  among  that  gentleman's  former 
friends  and  acquaintances.)  The  Tribune  could  not 
account  for  this  phenomenon  by  any  natural  laws,  and 
was  forced  to  believe  that  the  thing  was  a  miracle  —  in 
which  case  it  behooved  the  Northeastern  Railroads  to  read 
the  handwriting  on  the  wall.  Unless  —  unless  the  twenty 
did  not  exist !  Unless  the  whole  thing  were  a  joke  !  The 
Tribune  remembered  a  time  when  a  signed  statement,  pur 
porting  to  come  from  a  certain  Mrs.  Amanda  P.  Pillow,  of 
22  Blair  Street,  Newcastle,  had  appeared,  to  the  effect 
that  three  bottles  of  Rand's  Peach  Nectar  had  cured  her 
of  dropsy.  On  investigation  there  was  no  22  Blair  Street, 
and  Mrs.  Amanda  P.  Pillow  was  as  yet  unborn.  The  one 
sure  thing  about  the  statement  was  that  Rand's  Peach 
Nectar  could  be  had,  in  large  or  small  quantities,  as  de 
sired.  And  the  Tribune  was  prepared  to  state,  on  its  own 
authority,  that  a  Mr.  Humphrey  Crewe  did  exist,  and 
might  reluctantly  consent  to  take  the  nomination  for  the 
governorship.  In  industry  and  zeal  he  was  said  to  resem 
ble  the  celebrated  and  lamented  Mr.  Rand,  of  the  Peach 
Nectar. 

Ingratitude  merely   injures  those   who  are   capable  of 


274  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

it,  although  it  sometimes  produces  sadness  in  great  souls. 
What  were  Mr.  Crewe's  feelings  when  he  read  this  drivel? 
When  he  perused  the  extracts  from  the  "  Book  of  Argu 
ments  "  which  appeared  (with  astonishing  unanimity,  too !) 
in  sixty  odd  weekly  newspapers  of  the  State  —  an  assort 
ment  of  arguments  for  each  county. 

"  Brush  Bascom's  doin'  that  work  now,"  said  Mr.  Tooting, 
contemptuously,  "  and  he's  doin'  it  with  a  shovel.  Look 
here !  He's  got  the  same  squib  in  three  towns  within  a 
dozen  miles  of  each  other,  the  one  beginning  4  Political 
conditions  in  this  State  are  as  clean  as  those  of  any  State 
in  the  Union,  and  the  United  Northeastern  Railroads  is 
a  corporation  which  is,  fortunately,  above  calumny.  A 
summer  resident  who,  to  satisfy  his  lust  for  office,  is  willing 
to  defame  —  ' : 

"  Yes,"  interrupted  Mr.  Crewe,  "  never  mind  reading 
any  more  of  that  rot." 

"It's  botched,"  said  Mr.  Tooting,  whose  artistic  soul 
was  jarred.  "  I'd  have  put  that  in  Avalon  County,  and 
Weare,  and  Marshall.  I  know  men  that  take  all  three  of 
those  papers  in  Putnam." 

No  need  of  balloonists  to  see  what  the  enemy  is  about, 
when  we  have  a  Mr.  Tooting. 

"They're  stung!"  he  cried,  as  he  ran  rapidly  through 
the  bundle  of  papers  —  Mr.  Crewe  having  subscribed, 
with  characteristic  generosity,  to  the  entire  press  of  the 
State.  "  Flint  gave  'em  out  all  this  stuff  about  the  rail 
road  bein'  a  sacred  institution.  You've  got  'em  on  the 
run  right  now,  Mr.  Crewe.  You'll  notice  that,  Demo 
crats  and  Republicans,  they've  dropped  everybody  else, 
that  they've  all  been  sicked  on  to  you.  They're  scared." 

"  I  came  to  that  conclusion  some  time  ago,"  replied  Mr. 
Crewe,  who  was  sorting  over  his  letters. 

"  And  look  there  !  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Tooting,  tearing  out 
a  paragraph,  "  there's  the  best  campaign  material  we've 
had  yet.  Say,  I'll  bet  Flint  takes  that  doddering  idiot's 
pass  away  for  writing  that." 

Mr.  Crewe  took  the  extract,  and  read :  — 

"  A  summer  resident  of  Leith,  who  is  said  to  be  a  million- 


BUSY  DAYS   AT  WEDDERBURN  275 

aire  many  times  over,  and  who  had  a  somewhat  farcical 
career  as  a  legislator  last  winter,  has  announced  himself  as 
a  candidate  for  the  Republican  nomination  on  a  platform 
attacking  the  Northeastern  Railroads.  Mr.  Humphrey 
Crewe  declares  that  the  Northeastern  Railroads  govern  us. 
What  if  they  do?  Every  sober-minded  citizen  will  agree 
that  they  give  us  a  pretty  good  government.  More  power 
to  them." 

Mr.  Crewe  permitted  himself  to  smile. 

"  They  are  playing  into  our  hands,  sure  enough.     What  ?  " 

This  is  an  example  of  the  spirit  in  which  the  ridicule 
and  abuse  was  met. 

It  was  Senator  Whitredge  —  only  last  autumn  so 
pleased  to  meet  Mr.  Crewe  at  Mr.  Flint's  —  who  asked 
the  hypocritical  question,  "  Who  is  Humphrey  Crewe?  "  A 
biography  (in  pamphlet  form,  illustrated,  —  send  your 
name  and  address)  is  being  prepared  by  the  invaluable 
Mr.  Tooting,  who  only  sleeps  six  hours  these  days.  We 
shall  see  it  presently,  when  it  emerges  from  that  busy  hive 
at  Wedderburn. 

Wedderburn  was  a  hive,  sure  enough.  Not  having  a 
balloon  ourselves,  it  is  difficult  to  see  all  that  is  going  on 
there;  but  there  can  be  no  mistake  (except  by  the  Hon 
ourable  Hilary's  seismograph)  that  it  has  become  the  centre 
of  extraordinary  activity.  The  outside  world  has  paused 
to  draw  breath  at  the  spectacle,  and  members  of  the  met 
ropolitan  press  are  filling  the  rooms  of  the  Ripton  House 
and  adding  to  the  prosperity  of  its  livery-stable.  Mr.  Crewe 
is  a  difficult  man  to  see  these  days  —  there  are  so  many 
visitors  at  Wedderburn,  and  the  representatives  of  the 
metropolitan  press  hitch  their  horses  and  stroll  around  the 
grounds,  or  sit  on  the  porch  and  converse  with  gentlemen 
from  various  counties  of  the  State  who  (as  the  Tribune 
would  put  it)  have  been  led  by  a  star  to  Leith. 

On  the  occasion  of  one  of  these  gatherings,  when  Mr. 
Crewe  had  been  inaccessible  for  four  hours,  Mrs.  Pomfret 
drove  up  in  a  victoria  with  her  daughter  Alice. 

"  I'm  sure  I  don't  know  when  we're  going  to  see  poor 
dear  Humphrey  again,"  said  Mrs.  Pomfret,  examining  the 


276  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

group  on  the  porch,  through  her  gold-mounted  lenses  ; 
"  these  awful  people  are  always  here  when  I  come.  I 
wonder  if  they  sleep  here,  in  the  hammocks  and  lounging 
chairs!  Alice,  we  must  be  very  polite  to  them —  so  much 
depends  on  it." 

"I'm  always  polite,  mother,"  answered  Alice,  "except 
when  you  tell  me  not  to  be.  The  trouble  is  I  never  know 
myself." 

The  victoria  stopped  in  front  of  the  door,  and  the  irre 
proachable  Waters  advanced  across  the  porch. 

"  Waters,"  said  Mrs.  Pomfret,  "  I  suppose  Mr.  Crewe 
is  too  busy  to  come  out." 

"  I'm  afraid  so,  madam,"  replied  Waters  ;  "  there's  a  line 
of  gentlemen  waitin'  here  "  (he  eyed  them  with  no  uncertain 
disapproval),  "  and  I've  positive  orders  not  to  disturb  him, 
madam." 

"  I  quite  understand,  at  a  time  like  this,"  said  Mrs. 
Pomfret,  and  added,  for  the  benefit  of  her  audience,  "  when 
Mr.  Crewe  has  been  public-spirited  and  unselfish  enough 
to  undertake  such  a  gigantic  task.  Tell  him  Miss  Pom- 
fret  and  I  call  from  time  to  time  because  we  are  so  inter 
ested,  and  that  the  whole  of  Leith  wishes  him  success." 

"  I'll  tell  him,  madam,"  said  Waters. 

But  Mrs.  Pomfret  did  not  give  the  signal  for  her  coach 
man  to  drive  on.  She  looked,  instead,  at  the  patient 
gathering. 

"  Good  morning,  gentlemen,"  she  said. 

"Mother!"  whispered  Alice,  "what  are  you  going  to 
do?" 

The  gentlemen  rose. 

"  I'm  Mrs.  Pomfret,"  she  said,  as  though  that  simple 
announcement  were  quite  sufficient,  —  as  it  was,  for  the 
metropolitan  press.  Not  a  man  of  them  who  had  not  seen 
Mrs.  Pomfret's  important  movements  on  both  sides  of  the 
water  chronicled.  "  I  take  the  liberty  of  speaking  to  you, 
as  we  all  seem  to  be  united  in  a  common  cause.  How  is 
the  campaign  looking  ?  " 

Some  of  the  gentlemen  shifted  their  cigars  from  one 
hand  to  the  other,  and  grinned  sheepishly. 


YOU     KNOW     THAT    A     WOMAN     CAN     OFTEN     GET     A     VOTE     WHEN     A     MAN 


BUSY   DAYS  AT  WEDDERBURN  277 

"  I  am  so  interested,"  continued  Mrs.  Pomfret  ;  "  it  is  so 
anusual  in  America  for  a  gentleman  to  be  willing  to  un- 
lertake  such  a  thing,  to  subject  himself  to  low  criticism, 
ind  to  have  his  pure  motives  questioned.  Mr.  Crewe  has 
•are  courage  —  I  have  always  said  so.  And  we  are  all 
to  put  our  shoulder  to  the  wheel,  and  help  him  all 


There  was  one  clever  man  there  who  was  quick  to  see 
lis  opportunity,  and  seize  it  for  his  newspaper. 

"  And  are  you  going  to  help  Mr.  Crewe  in  his  campaign, 
Mrs.  Pomfret  ?  " 

"  Most  assuredly,"  answered  Mrs.  Pomfret.  "  Women 
n  this  country  could  do  so  much  if  they  only  would. 
f  ou  know,"  she  added,  in  her  most  winning  manner,  "  you 
mow  that  a  woman  can  often  get  a  vote  when  a  man  can't." 

"  And  you,  and  —  other  ladies  will  go  around  to  the 
mblic  meetings  ?  " 

"  Why  not,  my  friend,  if  Mr.  Crewe  has  no  objection  ? 

d  I  can  conceive  of  none." 

"  You  would  have  an  organization  of  society  ladies  to 
help  Mr.  Crewe  ?  " 

"That's  rather  a  crude  way  of  putting  it,"  answered 
Mrs.  Pomfret,  with  her  glasses  raised  judicially.  "  Women 
n  what  you  call  '  society  '  are,  I  am  glad  to  say,  taking 
an  increasing  interest  in  politics.  They  are  beginning  to 
realize  that  it  is  a  duty." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  the  reporter  ;  "  and  now  would  you 
mind  if  I  took  a  photograph  of  you  in  your  carriage  ?  " 

Oh,  mother,"  protested  Alice,  "  you  won't  let  him  do 
;hat!" 

"Be  quiet,  Alice.  Lady  Aylestone  and  the  duchess 
are  photographed  in  every  conceivable  pose  for  political 
purposes.  Wymans,  just  drive  around  to  the  other  side 
of  the  circle." 

The  article  appeared  next  day,  and  gave,  as  may  be 

magined,  a  tremendous  impetus  to  Mr.   Crewe's   cause. 

'•A  new   era  in  American  politics!"     "Society  to  take  a 

hand  in  the  gubernatorial  campaign  of  Millionaire  Hum 

phrey  Crewe!  "    "  Noted  social  leader,  Mrs.  Patterson  Pom- 


278  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

fret,  declares  it  a  duty,  and  says  that  English  women  have  t) 
right  idea."     And  a  photograph  of  Mrs.  Patterson  Pomfi 
herself,  in  her  victoria,  occupied  a  generous  portion  of  tl 
front  page. 

"  What's  all  this  rubbish  about  Mrs.  Pomfret  ?  "  wi 
Mr.  Crewe's  grateful  comment  when  he  saw  it.     "  I  spei 
two  valuable  hours  with  that  reporter  givin'  him  matei 
and  statistics,  and  I  can't  find  that  he's  used  a  word 
it." 

"Never  you  mind  about  that,"  Mr.   Tooting  replie< 
"  The   more   advertising   you   get,    the   better,  and   tl 
shows  that  the  right  people  are  behind  you.     Mrs.  Poi 
fret's  a  smart  woman,  all  right.    She  knows  her  job.    An( 
here's  more  advertising,"  he  continued,  shoving  anotht 
sheet  across  the  desk,  "  a  fine  likeness  of  you  in  caricatui 
labelled,  'Ajax  defying  the  Lightning.'     Who's  Ajax?S 
There  was  an  Italian,  a  street  contractor,  with  that  name]' 
—  or  something  like  it — in  Newcastle  a  couple  of  years]* 
ago  —  in  the  eighth  ward." 

In  these  days,  when  false  rumours  fly  apace   to  the 
injury  of  innocent  men,  it  is  well  to  get  at  the  truth,  if  If 
possible.     It  is  not  true  that  Mr.   Paul  Pardriff,  of  the*1 
Ripton  Record,  has  been  to  Wedderburn.     Mr.   Pardriff  1 
was  getting  into  a  buggy  to  go  —  somewhere  —  when  heji| 
chanced  to  meet  the  Honourable  Brush  Bascom,  and  theji 
buggy  was  sent  back  to  the  livery-stable.     Mr.  Tooting: 
had  been  to  see  Mr.  Pardriff  before  the  world-quaking:] 
announcement  of  June  7th,  and  had  found  Mr.  Pardriff 
reformer  who  did  not  believe  that  the  railroad  should  runii 
the  State.     But  the  editor  of  the  Ripton  Record  was  at 
man  after  Emerson's  own  heart :  "  a  foolish  consistency- 
is  the  hobgoblin  of  little  minds"  —  and  Mr.  Pardriff  didi 
not  go  to  Wedderburn.     He  went  off  on  an  excursion  upf 
the  State  instead,  for  he  had  been  working  too  hard;  andi 
he  returned,  as  many  men  do  from  their  travels,  a  con 
servative.     He  listened  coldly  to  Mr.   Tooting's  impas 
sioned  pleas  for  cleaner  politics,  until  Mr.  Tooting  revealedi 
the  fact  that  his  pockets  were  full  of  copy.     It  seems  thati 
a  biography  was  to  be  printed  —  a  biography  which  would,, 


BUSY  DAYS  AT  WEDDERBURN  279 

undoubtedly,  be  in  great  demand ;  the  biography  of  a 
public  benefactor,  illustrated  with  original  photographs 
and  views  in  the  country.  Mr.  Tooting  and  Mr.  Pardriff 
both  being  men  of  the  world,  some  exceeding  plain  talk 
ensued  between  them,  and  when  two  such  minds  unite, 
a  way  out  is  sure  to  be  found.  One  can  be  both  a  con 
servative  and  a  radical  —  if  one  is  clever.  There  were 
other  columns  in  Mr.  Pardriff's  paper  besides  editorial 
columns ;  editorial  columns,  Mr.  Pardriff  said,  were  sacred 
to  his  convictions.  Certain  thumb-worn  schedules  were 
referred  to.  Paul  Pardriff,  Ripton,  agreed  to  be  the  pub 
lisher  of  the  biography. 

The  next  edition  of  the  Record  was  an  example  of  what 
Mr.  Emerson  meant.  Three  columns  contained  extracts 
of  absorbing  interest  from  the  forthcoming  biography  and, 
on  another  page,  an  editorial.  "  The  Honourable  Hum 
phrey  Crewe,  of  Leith,  is  an  estimable  gentleman  and  a 
good  citizen,  whose  public  endeavours  have  been  of  great 
benefit  to  the  community.  A  citizen  of  Avalon  County, 
the  Record  regrets  that  it  cannot  support  his  candidacy 
for  the  Republican  gubernatorial  nomination.  We  are 
not  among  those  who  seek  to  impugn  motives,  and  while 
giving  Mr.  Crewe  every  credit  that  his  charges  against 
the  Northeastern  Railroads  are  made  in  good  faith,  we 
beg  to  differ  from  him.  That  corporation  is  an  institu 
tion  which  has  stood  the  test  of  time,  and  enriches  every 
year  the  State  treasury  by  a  large  sum  in  taxes.  Its 
management  is  in  safe,  conservative  hands.  No  one  will 
deny  Mr.  Crewe's  zeal  for  the  State's  welfare,  but  it  must 
be  borne  in  mind  that  he  is  a  newcomer  in  politics,  and 
that  conditions,  seen  from  the  surface,  are  sometimes 
deceptive.  We  predict  for  Mr.  Crewe  a  long  and  useful 
career,  but  we  do  not  think  that  at  this  time,  and  on  this 
platform,  he  will  obtain  the  governorship." 

"  Moral  courage  is  what  the  age  needs,"  had  been  Mr. 
Crewe's  true  and  sententious  remark  when  he  read  this 
editorial.  But,  bearing  in  mind  a  biblical  adage,  he  did 
not  blame  Mr.  Tooting  for  his  diplomacy.  "  Send  in  the 
next  man." 


280  MR.   CREWE'S  CAREER 

Mr.  Tooting  opened  the  study  door  and  glanced  ovei 
the  public-spirited  citizens  awaiting,  on  the  porch,  the 
pleasure  of  their  leader. 

"  Come  along,  Caldwell,"  said  Mr.  Tooting.  "  He 
wants  your  report  from  Kingston.  Get  a  hustle  on  !  " 

Mr.  Caldwell  made  his  report,  received  many  brief  and 
businesslike  suggestions,  and  retired,  impressed.  Where 
upon  Mr.  Crewe  commanded  Mr.  Tooting  to  order  his 
automobile  —  an  occasional  and  rapid  spin  over  the  coun 
try  roads  being  the  only  diversion  the  candidate  permitted 
himself.  Wishing  to  be  alone  with  his  thoughts,  he  did 
not  take  Mr.  Tooting  with  him  on  these  excursions. 

"And  by  the  way,"  said  Mr.  Crewe,  as  he  seized  the 
steering  wheel  a  few  moments  later,  "  just  drop  a  line  to 
Austen  Vane,  will  you,  and  tell  him  I  want  to  see  him  up 
here  within  a  day  or  two.  Make  an  appointment.  It 
has  occurred  to  me  that  he  might  be  very  useful." 

Mr.  Tooting  stood  on  the  driveway  watching  the  cloud 
of  dust  settle  on  the  road  below.  Then  he  indulged  in 
a  long  and  peculiarly  significant  whistle  through  his  teeth, 
rolled  his  eyes  heavenward,  and  went  into  the  house.  He 
remembered  Austen's  remark  about  riding  a  cyclone. 

Mr.  Crewe  took  the  Tunbridge  road.  On  his  excursion 
of  the  day  before  he  had  met  Mrs.  Pomfret,  who  had  held 
up  her  hand,  and  he  had  protestingly  brought  the  car  to 
a  stop. 

"  Your  horses  don't  frighten,"  he  had  said. 

"  No,  but  I  wanted  to  speak  to  you,  Humphrey,"  Mrs. 
Pomfret  had  replied;  "you  are  becoming  so  important 
that  nobody  ever  has  a  glimpse  of  you.  I  wanted  to  tell 
you  what  an  interest  we  take  in  this  splendid  thing  you 
are  doing." 

"  Well,"  said  Mr.  Crewe, "  it  was  a  plain  duty,  and  no 
body  else  seemed  willing  to  undertake  it." 

Mrs.  Pomfret's  eyes  had  flashed. 

"Men  of  that  type  are  scarce,"  she  answered.  "But 
you'll  win.  You're  the  kind  of  man  that  wins." 

"  Oh,  yes,  I'll  win,"  said  Mr.  Crewe. 

"  You're  so  magnificently  sure  of  yourself,"  cried  Mrs. 


BUSY  DAYS  AT  WEDDERBURN  281 

Pomfret.  "  Alice  is  taking  such  an  interest.  Every  day 
she  asks,  'When  is  Humphrey  going  to  make  his  first 
speech  ?  '  You'll  let  us  know  in  time,  won't  you  ?  " 

"  Did  you  put  all  that  nonsense  in  the  New  York  Flare?  " 
asked  Mr.  Crewe. 

"  Oh,  Humphrey,  I  hope  you  liked  it,"  cried  Mrs.  Pom- 
fret.  "  Don't  make  the  mistake  of  despising  what 
women  can  do.  They  elected  the  Honourable  Billy 
Aylestone  —  he  said  so  himself.  I'm  getting  all  the 
women  interested." 

"  Who've  you  been  calling  on  now?  "  he  inquired. 

"Mrs.  Pomfret  hesitated. 

"  I've  been  up  at  Fairview  to  see  about  Mrs.  Flint. 
She  isn't  much  better." 

"Is  Victoria  home?"  Mr.  Crewe  demanded,  with  un 
disguised  interest. 

"Poor  dear  girl!"  said  Mrs.  Pomfret,  "of  course  I 
wouldn't  have  mentioned  the  subject  to  her,  but  she 
wanted  to  know  all  about  it.  It  naturally  makes  an 
awkward  situation  between  you  and  her,  doesn't  it  ?  " 

"  Oh,  Victoria's  level-headed  enough,"  Mr.  Crewe  had 
answered;  "  I  guess  she  knows  something  about  old  Flint 
and  his  methods  by  this  time.  At  any  rate,  it  won't  make 
any  difference  with  me,"  he  added  magnanimously,  and 
threw  in  his  clutch.  He  had  encircled  Fairview  in  his 
drive  that  day,  and  was,  curiously  enough,  headed  in  that 
direction  now.  Slow  to  make  up  his  mind  in  some  things, 
as  every  eligible  man  must  be,  he  was  now  coming  rapidly 
to  the  notion  that  he  might  eventually  decide  upon  Vic 
toria  as  the  most  fitting  mate  for  one  in  his  position.  Still, 
there  was  no  hurry.  As  for  going  to  Fairview  House, 
that  might  be  awkward,  besides  being  open  to  miscon 
struction  by  his  constituents.  Mr.  Crewe  reflected,  as  he 
rushed  up  the  hills,  that  he  had  missed  Victoria  since  she 
had  been  abroad  —  and  a  man  so  continually  occupied  as 
he  did  not  have  time  to  miss  many  people.  Mr.  Crewe 
made  up  his  mind  he  would  encircle  Fairview  every  day 
until  he  ran  across  her. 

The  goddess  of  fortune  sometimes  blesses  the  persistent 


282  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

even  before  they  begin  to  persist  —  perhaps  from  sheer 
weariness  at  the  remembrance  of  previous  importuning. 
Victoria,  on  a  brand-new  and  somewhat  sensitive  five- 
year-old,  was  coming  out  of  the  stone  archway  when  Mr. 
Crewe  (without  any  signal  this  time  !)  threw  on  his  brakes. 
An  exhibition  of  horsemanship  followed,  on  Victoria's  part, 
which  Mr.  Crewe  beheld  with  admiration.  The  five-year- 
old  swung  about  like  a  weathercock  in  a  gust  of  wind, 
assuming  an  upright  position,  like  the  unicorn  in  the 
British  coat  of  arms.  Victoria  cut  him,  and  he  came 
down  on  all  fours  and  danced  into  the  wire  fence  that 
encircled  the  Fair  view  domain,  whereupon  he  got  another 
stinging  reminder  that  there  was  some  one  on  his  back. 

"  Bravo !  "  cried  Mr.  Crewe,  leaning  on  the  steering 
wheel  and  watching  the  performance  with  delight.  Never, 
he  thought,  had  Victoria  been  more  appealing ;  strangely 
enough,  he  had  not  remembered  that  she  was  quite  so 
handsome,  or  that  her  colour  was  so  vivid;  or  that  her 
body  was  so  straight  and  long  and  supple.  He  liked  the 
way  in  which  she  gave  it  to  that  horse,  and  he  made  up  his 
mind  that  she  would  grace  any  position,  however  high. 
Presently  the  horse  made  a  leap  into  the  road  in  front  of 
the  motor  and  stood  trembling,  ready  to  bolt. 

"  For  Heaven's  sake,  Humphrey,"  she  cried,  "  shut  off 
your  power!  Don't  sit  there  like  an  idiot  —  do  you  think 
I'm  doing  this  for  pleasure  ?  " 

Mr.  Crewe  good-naturedly  turned  off  his  switch,  and  the 
motor,  with  a  dying  sigh,  was  silent.  He  even  liked  the 
notion  of  being  commanded  to  do  a  thing;  there  was  a 
relish  about  it  that  was  new.  The  other  women  of  his 
acquaintance  addressed  him  more  deferentially. 

"Get  hold  of  the  bridle,"  he  said  to  the  chauffeur. 
"  You've  got  no  business  to  have  an  animal  like  that,"  was 
his  remark  to  Victoria. 

"  Don't  touch  him !  "  she  said  to  the  man,  who  was 
approaching  with  a  true  machinist's  fear  of  a  high- 
spirited  horse.  "  You've  got  no  business  to  have  a 
motor  like  that,  if  you  can't  handle  it  any  better  than 
you  do." 


BUSY  DAYS   AT  WEDDERBURN  283 

"  You  managed  him  all  right.  I'll  say  that  for  you,'* 
said  Mr.  Crewe. 

"  No  thanks  to  you,"  she  replied.  Now  that  the  horse 
was  comparatively  quiet,  she  sat  and  regarded  Mr. 
Crewe  with  an  amusement  which  was  gradually  getting 
the  better  of  her  anger.  A  few  moments  since,  and  she 
wished  with  great  intensity  that  she  had  been  using  the 
whip  on  his  shoulders  instead.  Now  that  she  had  time  to 
gather  up  the  threads  of  the  situation,  the  irresistibly 
comic  aspect  of  it  grew  upon  her,  and  little  creases  came 
into  the  corners  of  her  eyes  —  which  Mr.  Crewe  admired. 
She  recalled  —  with  indignation,  to  be  sure  —  the  con 
versation  she  had  overheard  in  the  dining  room  of  the 
Duncan  house,  but  her  indignation  was  particularly  directed, 
on  that  occasion,  towards  Mr.  Tooting.  Here  was  Hum 
phrey  Crewe,  sitting  talking  to  her  in  the  road  —  Hum 
phrey  Crewe,  whose  candidacy  for  the  governorship 
impugned  her  father's  management  of  the  Northeastern 
Railroads  —  and  she  was  unable  to  take  the  matter 
seriously  !  There  must  be  something  wrong  with  her, 
she  thought. 

"  So  you're  home  again,"  Mr.  Crewe  observed,  his  eyes 
still  bearing  witness  to  the  indubitable  fact.  "  I  shouldn't 
have  known  it  —  I've  been  so  busy." 

"  Is  the  Legislature  still  in  session  ?  "  Victoria  soberly 
inquired. 

"  You  are  a  little  behind  the  times  —  ain't  you  ?  "  said 
Mr.  Crewe,  in  surprise.  "  How  long  have  you  been  home? 
Hasn't  anybody  told  you  what's  going  on  ?  " 

"  I  only  came  up  ten  days  ago,"  she  answered,  "  and 
I'm  afraid  I've  been  something  of  a  recluse.  What  is 
going  on  ?  " 

"  Well,"  he  declared,  "  I  should  have  thought  you'd 
heard  it,  anyway.  I'll  send  you  up  a  few  newspapers 
when  I  get  back.  I'm  a  candidate  for  the  governorship." 

Victoria  bit  her  lip,  and  leaned  over  to  brush  a  fly  from 
the  neck  of  her  horse. 

"You  are  getting  on  rapidly,  Humphrey,"  she  said. 
"  Do  you  think  you've  got  —  any  chance?  " 


284  MR.   CREWE'S  CAREER 

"  Any  chance !  "  he  repeated,  with  some  pardonable 
force.  "  I'm  sure  to  be  nominated.  There's  an  over 
whelming  sentiment  among  the  voters  of  this  State  for 
decent  politics.  It  didn't  take  me  long  to  find  that 
out.  The  only  wonder  is  that  somebody  hasn't  seen  it 
before." 

"  Perhaps,"  she  answered,  giving  him  a  steady  look, 
"  perhaps  somebody  has." 

One  of  Mr.  Crewe's  greatest  elements  of  strength  was 
his  imperviousness  to  this  kind  of  a  remark. 

"  If  anybody's  seen  it,"  he  replied,  "  they  haven't  the 
courage  of  their  convictions."  Such  were  the  workings 
of  Mr.  Crewe's  mind  that  he  had  already  forgotten  that 
first  talk  with  Mr.  Hamilton  Tooting.  "  Not  that  I  want 
to  take  too  much  credit  on  myself,"  he  added,  with  becom 
ing  modesty,  "  I  have  had  some  experience  in  the  world, 
and  it  was  natural  that  I  should  get  a  fresh  view.  Are 
you  coming  down  to  Leith  in  a  few  days?  " 

"  I  may,"  said  Victoria. 

"  Telephone  me,"  said  Mr.  Crewe,  "  and  if  I  can  get  off, 
I  will.  I'd  like  to  talk  to  you.  You  have  more  sense 
than  most  women  I  know." 

"  You  overwhelm  me,  Humphrey.  Compliments  sound 
strangely  on  your  lips." 

"  When  I  say  a  thing,  I  mean  it,"  Mr.  Crewe  declared. 
"  I  don't  pay  compliments.  I'd  make  it  a  point  to  take  a 
little  time  off  to  talk  to  you.  You  see,  so  many  men  are 
interested  in  this  thing  from  various  parts  of  the  State,  and 
we  are  so  busy  organizing,  that  it  absorbs  most  of  my 
day." 

"  I  couldn't  think  of  encroaching,"  Victoria  protested. 

"  That's  all  right  —  you  can  be  a  great  help.  I've  got 
confidence  in  your  judgment.  By  the  way,"  he  asked 
suddenly,  "you  haven't  seen  your  friend  Austen  Vane 
since  you  got  back,  have  you  ?  " 

"  Why  do  you  call  him  my  friend  ?  "  said  Victoria.  Mr. 
Crew  perceived  that  the  exercise  had  heightened  her 
colour,  and  the  transition  appealed  to  his  sense  of  beauty. 

"  Perhaps  I  put  it  a  little  strongly,"  he  replied.     "  You 


BUSY  DAYS  AT  WEDDERBURN  285 

seemed  to  take  an  interest  in  him,  for  some  reason.  I 
suppose  it's  because  you  like  new  types." 

"I  like  Mr.  Vane  very  much,  —  and  for  himself,"  she 
said  quietly.  "But  I  haven't  seen  him  since  I  came 
back.  Nor  do  I  think  I  am  likely  to  see  him.  What 
made  you  ask  about  him?  " 

"  Well,  he  seems  to  be  a  man  of  some  local  standing, 
and  he  ought  to  be  in  this  campaign.  If  you  happen 
to  see  him,  you  might  mention  the  subject  to  him.  I've 
sent  for  him  to  come  up  and  see  me." 

"  Mr.  Vane  doesn't  seem  to  me  to  be  a  person  one  can 
send  for  like  that,"  Victoria  remarked  judicially.  "As  to 
advising  him  as  to  what  course  he  should  take  politically 
—  that  would  even  be  straining  my  friendship  for  you, 
Humphrey.  On  reflection,"  she  added,  smiling,  "there 
may  appear  to  you  reasons  why  I  should  not  care  to 
meddle  with  —  politics,  just  now." 

"  I  can't  see  it,"  said  Mr.  Crewe ;  "  you've  got  a  mind 
of  your  own,  and  you've  never  been  afraid  to  use  it,  so 
far  as  I  know.  If  you  should  see  that  Vane  man,  just 
give  him  a  notion  of  what  I'm  trying  to  do." 

"  What  are  you  trying  to  do  ? "  inquired  Victoria, 
sweetly. 

"  I'm  trying  to  clean  up  this  State  politically,"  said 
Mr.  Crewe,  "  and  I'm  going  to  do  it.  When  you  come 
down  to  Leith,  I'll  tell  you  about  it,  and  I'll  send  you 
the  newspapers  to-day.  Don't  be  in  a  hurry,"  he  cried, 
addressing  over  his  shoulder  two  farmers  in  a  wagon 
who  had  driven  up  a  few  moments  before,  and  who  were 
apparently  anxious  to  pass.  "Wind  her  up,  Adolphe." 

The  chauffeur,  standing  by  the  crank,  started  the 
engine  instantly,  and  the  gears  screamed  as  Mr.  Crewe 
threw  in  his  low  speed.  The  five-year-old  whirled,  and 
bolted  down  the  road  at  a  pace  which  would  have  seemed 
to  challenge  a  racing  car;  and  the  girl  in  the  saddle, 
bending  to  the  motion  of  the  horse,  was  seen  to  raise 
her  hand  in  warning. 

"  Better  stay  whar  you  be,"  shouted  one  of  the  farmers  ; 
"don't  go  to  follerin'  her.  The  hoss  is  runnin'  away." 


286  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

Mr.  Crewe  steered  his  car  into  the  Fairview  entrance, 
and  backed  into  the  road  again,  facing  the  other  way. 
He  had  decided  to  go  home. 

"  That  lady  can  take  care  of  herself,"  he  said,  and 
started  off  towards  Leith,  wondering  how  it  was  that 
Mr.  Flint  had  not  confided  his  recent  political  troubles 
to  his  daughter. 

"  That  hoss  is  ugly,  sure  enough,"  said  the  farmer 
who  had  spoken  before. 

Victoria  flew  on,  down  the  narrow  road.  After  twenty 
strides  she  did  not  attempt  to  disguise  from  herself  the 
fact  that  the  five-year-old  was  in  a  frenzy  of  fear,  and 
running  away.  Victoria  had  been  run  away  with  be 
fore,  and  having  some  knowledge  of  the  animal  she 
rode,  she  did  not  waste  her  strength  by  pulling  on  the 
curb,  but  sought  rather  to  quiet  him  with  her  voice, — • 
which  had  no  effect  whatever.  He  was  beyond  appeal, 
his  head  was  down,  and  his  ears  trembling  backwards 
and  straining  for  a  sound  of  the  terror  that  pursued 
him.  The  road  ran  through  the  forest,  and  Victoria 
reflected  that  the  grade,  011  the  whole,  was  downward 
to  the  East  Tunbridge  station,  where  the  road  crossed 
the  track  and  took  to  the  hills  beyond.  Once  among 
them,  she  would  be  safe  —  he  might  run  as  far  as  he 
pleased.  But  could  she  pass  the  station?  She  held  a 
firm  rein,  and  tried  to  keep  her  mind  clear. 

Suddenly,  at  a  slight  bend  of  the  road,  the  corner  of 
the  little  red  building  came  in  sight,  some  hundreds 
of  yards  ahead  ;  and,  on  the  side  where  it  stood,  in  the 
clearing,  was  a  white  mass  which  Victoria  recognized  as  a 
pile  of  lumber.  She  saw  several  men  on  the  top  of  the 
pile,  standing  motionless;  she  heard  one  of  them  shout; 
the  horse  swerved,  and  she  felt  herself  flung  violently 
to  the  left. 

Her  first  thought,  after  striking,  was  one  of  self-con 
gratulation  that  her  safety  stirrup  and  habit  had  behaved 
properly.  Before  she  could  rise,  a  man  was  leaning  over 
her  —  and  in  the  instant  she  had  the  impression  that  he 
was  a  friend.  Other  people  had  had  this  impression  of 


BUSY  DAYS   AT   WEDDERBURN  287 

him  on  first  acquaintance  —  his  size,  his  genial,  brick-red 
face,  and  his  honest  blue  eyes  all  doubtless  contributing. 

"  Are  you  hurt,  Miss  Flint  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Not  in  the  least,"  she  replied,  springing  to  her  feet  to 
prove  the  contrary.  "  What's  become  of  my  horse  ?  " 

"  Two  of  the  men  have  gone  after  him,"  he  said,  staring 
at  her  with  undisguised  but  honest  admiration.  Where 
upon  he  became  suddenly  embarrassed,  and  pulled  out  a 
handkerchief  the  size  of  a  table-napkin.  "  Let  me  dust 
you  off." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Victoria,  laughing,  and  beginning 
the  process  herself.  Her  new  acquaintance  plied  the 
handkerchief,  his  face  a  brighter  brick-red  than  ever. 

"  Thank  God,  there  wasn't  a  freight  on  the  siding,"  he 
remarked,  so  fervently  that  Victoria  stole  a  glance  at  him. 
The  dusting  process  continued. 

"There,"  she  exclaimed,  at  last,  adjusting  her  stock 
and  shaking  her  skirt,  "  I'm  ever  so  much  obliged.  It  was 
very  foolish  in  me  to  tumble  off,  wasn't  it?  " 

"  It  was  the  only  thing  you  could  have  done,"  he  de 
clared.  "  I  had  a  good  view  of  it,  and  he  flung  you  like  a 
bean  out  of  a  shooter.  That's  a  powerful  horse.  I  guess 
you're  the  kind  that  likes  to  take  risks." 

Victoria  laughed  at  his  expressive  phrase,  and  crossed 
the  road,  and  sat  down  on  the  edge  of  the  lumber  pile,  in 
the  shade. 

"  There  seems  to  be  nothing  to  do  but  wait,"  she  said, 
"  and  to  thank  you  again.  Will  you  tell  me  your  name?" 

"  I'm  Tom  Gaylord,"  he  replied. 

Her  colour,  always  so  near  the  surface,  rose  a  little  as 
she  regarded  him.  So  this  was  Austen  Vane's  particular 
friend,  whom  he  had  tried  to  put  out  of  his  window.  A 
Herculean  task,  Victoria  thought,  from  Tom's  appearance. 
Tom  sat  down  within  a  few  feet  of  her. 

"I've  seen  you  a  good  many  times,  Miss  Flint,"  he 
remarked,  applying  the  handkerchief  to  his  face. 

"And  I've  seen  you  —  once,  Mr.  Gaylord,"  some  mis 
chievous  impulse  prompted  her  to  answer.  Perhaps  the 
impulse  was  more  deep-seated,  after  all. 


288  MR.   CREWE'S  CAREER 

"  Where?  "  demanded  Tom,  promptly. 

"  You  were  engaged,"  said  Victoria,  "  in  a  struggle  in  a 
window  on  Ripton  Square.  It  looked,  for  a  time,"  she 
continued,  "as  if  you  were  going  to  be  dropped  on  the 
roof  of  the  porch." 

Tom  gazed  at  her  in  confusion  and  surprise. 

"  You  seem  to  be  fond,  too,  of  dangerous  exercise,"  she 
observed. 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  you  remembered  me  from  that  ?  " 
he  exclaimed.  "  Oh,  you  know  Austen  Vane,  don't 
you?" 

"  Does  Mr.  Vane  acknowledge  the  acquaintance  ? " 
Victoria  inquired. 

"  It's  funny,  but  you  remind  me  of  Austen,"  said  Tom, 
grinning;  "  you  seem  to  have  the  same  queer  way  of  saying 
things  that  he  has."  Here  he  was  conscious  of  another 
fit  of  embarrassment.  "I  hope  you  don't  mind  what  I 
say,  Miss  Flint." 

"Not  at  all,"  said  Victoria.  She  turned,  and  looked 
across  the  track. 

"  I  suppose  they  are  having  a  lot  of  trouble  in  catching 
my  horse,"  she  remarked. 

"  They'll  get  him,"  Tom  assured  her,  "  one  of  those  men 
is  my  manager.  He  always  gets  what  he  starts  out  for. 
What  were  we  talking  about?  Oh,  Austen  Vane.  You 
see,  I've  known  him  ever  since  I  was  a  shaver,  and  I  think 
the  world  of  him.  If  he  asked  me  to  go  to  South  America 
and  get  him  a  zebra  to-morrow,  I  believe  I'd  do  it." 

"  That  is  real  devotion,"  said  Victoria.  The  more  she 
saw  of  young  Tom,  the  better  she  liked  him,  although  his 
conversation  was  apt  to  be  slightly  embarrassing. 

"  We've  been  through  a  lot  of  rows  together,"  Tom  con 
tinued,  warming  to  his  subject,  "in  school  and  college. 
You  see,  Austen's  the  kind  of  man  who  doesn't  care  what 
anybody  thinks,  if  he  takes  it  into  his  head  to  do  a  thing. 
It  was  a  great  piece  of  luck  for  me  that  he  shot  that  fellow 
out  West,  or  he  wouldn't  be  here  now.  You  heard  about 
that,  didn't  you?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Victoria,  "  I  believe  I  did." 


BUSY  DAYS   AT  WEDDERBURN  289 

"  And  yet,"  said  Tom,  "although  I'm  as  good  a  friend 
as  he  has,  I  never  quite  got  under  his  skin.  There's  some 
things  I  wouldn't  talk  to  him  about.  I've  learned  that. 
I  never  told  him,  for  instance,  that  I  saw  him  out  in  a 
sleigh  with  you  at  the  capital." 

"  Oh,"  said  Victoria ;  and  she  added,  "  Is  he  ashamed 
of  it?" 

"  It's  not  that,"  replied  Tom,  hastily,  "  but  I  guess  if 
he'd  wanted  me  to  know  about  it,  he'd  have  told  me." 

Victoria  had  begun  to  realize  that,  in  the  few  minutes 
which  had  elapsed  since  she  had  found  herself  on  the  road 
side,  gazing  up  into  young  Tom's  eyes,  she  had  somehow 
become  quite  intimate  with  him. 

"  I  fancy  he  would  have  told  you  all  there  was  to  tell 
about  it  —  if  the  matter  had  occurred  to  him  again,"  she 
said,  with  the  air  of  finally  dismissing  a  subject  already 
too  prolonged.  But  Tom  knew  nothing  of  the  shades  and 
conventions  of  the  art  of  conversation. 

"  He's  never  told  me  he  knew  you  at  all !  "  he  exclaimed, 
staring  at  Victoria.  Apparently  some  of  the  aspects  of 
this  now  significant  omission  on  Austen's  part  were  be 
ginning  to  dawn  on  Tom. 

"It  wasn't  worth  mentioning,"  said  Victoria,  briefly, 
seeking  for  a  pretext  to  change  the  subject. 

"  I  don't  believe  that,"  said  Tom,  "  you  can't  expect  me 
to  sit  here  and  look  at  you  and  believe  that.  How  long 
has  he  known  you  ?  " 

"  I  saw  him  once  or  twice  last  summer,  at  Leith,"  said 
Victoria,  now  wavering  between  laughter  and  exasperation. 
She  had  got  herself  into  a  quandary  indeed  when  she  had 
to  parry  the  appalling  frankness  of  such  inquiries. 

"  The  more  you  see  of  him,  the  more  you'll  admire  him, 
I'll  prophesy,"  said  Tom.  "  If  he'd  been  content  to  travel 
along  the  easy  road,  as  most  fellows  are,  he  would  have 
been  counsel  for  the  Northeastern.  Instead  of  that  — " 
here  Tom  halted  abruptly,  and  turned  scarlet.  "  I  forgot," 
he  said,  "I'm  always  putting  my  foot  in  it,  with  ladies." 

He  was  so  painfully  confused  that  Victoria  felt  herself 
suffering  with  him,  and  longed  to  comfort  him. 


290  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

"Please  go  on,  Mr.  Gaylord,"  she  said;  "I  am  very 
much  interested  in  my  neighbours  here,  and  I  know  that 
a  great  many  of  them  think  that  the  railroad  meddles  in 
politics.  I've  tried  to  find  out  what  they  think,  but  it 
is  so  difficult  for  a  woman  to  understand.  If  matters  are 
wrong,  I'm  sure  my  father  will  right  them  when  he  knows 
the  situation.  He  has  so  much  to  attend  to."  She  paused. 
Tom  was  still  mopping  his  forehead.  "  You  may  say 
anything  you  like  to  me,  and  I  shall  not  take  offence." 

Tom's  admiration  of  her  was  heightened  by  this  attitude. 

"  Austen  wouldn't  join  Mr.  Crewe  in  his  little  game, 
anyway,"  he  said.  "  When  Ham  Tooting,  Crewe's  man 
ager,  came  to  him  he  kicked  him  downstairs." 

Victoria  burst  out  laughing. 

"  I  constantly  hear  of  these  ferocious  deeds  which  Mr. 
Vane  commits,"  she  said,  "and  yet  he  seems  exceptionally 
good-natured  and  mild-mannered." 

"That's  straight — he  kicked  him  downstairs.  Served 
Tooting  right,  too." 

"  There  does  seem  to  have  been  an  element  of  justice 
in  it,"  Victoria  remarked. 

"You  haven't  seen  Austen  since  he  left  his  father?" 
Mr.  Gaylord  inquired. 

"  Left  him !     Where  —  has  he  gone  ?  " 

"  Gone  up  to  live  with  Jabe  Jenney.  If  Austen  cared 
anything  about  money,  he  never  would  have  broken  with 
the  old  man,  who  has  some  little  put  away." 

"Why  did  he  leave  his  father?"  asked  Victoria,  not 
taking  the  trouble  now  to  conceal  her  interest. 

"Well,"  said  Tom,  "you  know  they  never  did  get 
along.  It  hasn't  been  Austen's  fault — he's  tried.  After 
he  came  back  from  the  West  he  stayed  here  to  please  old 
Hilary,  when  he  might  have  gone  to  New  York  and  made 
a  fortune  at  the  law,  with  his  brains.  But  after  Austen 
saw  the  kind  of  law  the  old  man  practised  he  wouldn't 
stand  for  it,  and  got  an  office  of  his  own." 

Victoria's  eyes  grew  serious. 

"  What  kind  of  law  does  Hilary  Vane  practise  ?  "  she 
asked. 


BUSY  DAYS  IN   WEDDERBURN  291 

Tom  hesitated  and  began  to  mop  his  forehead  again. 

"  Please  don't  mind  me,"  Victoria  pleaded. 
^  "  Well,  all  right,"  said  Tom,  "  I'll  tell  you  the  truth,  or 
die  for  it.     But  I  don't  want  to  make  you  —  unhappy." 

"  You  will  do  me  a  kindness,  Mr.  Gaylord,"  she  said, 
"by  telling  me  what  you  believe  to  be  true." 

There  was  a  note  in  her  voice  which  young  Tom  did 
not  understand.  Afterwards,  when  he  reflected  about  the 
matter,  he  wondered  if  she  were  unhappy. 

"  I  don't  want  to  blame  Hilary  too  much,"  he  answered. 
"I  know  Austen  don't.  Hilary's  grown  up  with  that 
way  of  doing  things,  and  in  the  old  days  there  was  no 
other  way.  Hilary  is  the  chief  counsel  for  the  Northeast 
ern,  and  he  runs  the  Republican  organization  in  this  State 
for  their  benefit.  But  Austen  made  up  his  mind  that 
there  was  no  reason  why  he  should  grow  up  that  way. 
He  says  that  a  lawyer  should  keep  to  his  profession,  and 
not  become  a  lobbyist  in  the  interest  of  his  clients.  He 
lived  with  the  old  man  until  the  other  day,  because  he  has 
a  real  soft  spot  for  him.  Austen  put  up  with  a  good  deal. 
And  then  Hilary  turned  loose  on  him  and  said  a  lot  of 
things  he  couldn't  stand.  Austen  didn't  answer,  but  went 
up  and  packed  his  bags  and  made  Hilary's  housekeeper 
promise  to  stay  with  him,  or  she'd  have  left,  too.  They  say 
Hilary's  sorry,  now.  He's  fond  of  Austen,  but  he  can't 
get  along  with  him." 

"Do  you  know  what  they  quarrelled  about?"  asked 
Victoria,  in  a  low  voice. 

"  This  spring,"  said  Tom,  "the  Gaylord  Lumber  Com- 
pany  made  Austen  junior  counsel.  He  ran  across  a  law 
the  other  day  that  nobody  else  seems  to  have  had  sense 
enough  to  discover,  by  which  we  can  sue  the  railroad  for 
excessive  freight  rates.  It  means  a  lot  of  money  He 
went  right  in  to  Hilary  and  showed  him  the  section,  told 
him  that  suit  was  going  to  be  brought,  and  offered  to 
resign.  Hilary  flew  off  the  track  and  said  if  he  didn't 
bring  suit  he'd  publish  it  all  over  the  State  that  Austen 
started  it.  (ralusha  Hammer,  our  senior  counsel,  is  sick, 
and  I  don  t  think  he'll  ever  get  well.  That  makes  Austen 


292  MR.   CREWE'S  CAREER 

senior  counsel.  But  he  persuaded  old  Tom,  my  father, 
not  to  bring  this  suit  until  after  the  political  campaign, 
until  Mr.  Crewe  gets  through  with  his  fireworks.  Hilary 
doesn't  know  that." 

"I  see,"  said  Victoria. 

Down  the  hill,  on  the  far  side  of  the  track,  she  perceived 
the  two  men  approaching  with  a  horse;  then  she  remem 
bered  the  fact  that  she  had  been  thrown,  and  that  it  was 
her  horse.  She  rose  to  her  feet. 

"  I'm  ever  so  much  obliged  to  you,  Mr.  Gaylord,"  she 
said  ;  "  you  have  done  me  a  great  favour  by  —  telling  me 
these  things.  And  thanks  for  letting  them  catch  the 
horse.  I'm  afraid  I've  put  you  to  a  lot  of  bother."  , 

"Not  at  all,"  said  Tom,  "not  at  all."  He  was  study 
ing  her  face.  Its  expression  troubled  and  moved  him 
strangely,  for  he  was  not  an  analytical  person.  "  I  didn't 
mean  to  tell  you  those  things  when  I  began,"  he  apolo 
gized,  "but  you  wanted  to  hear  them." 

"  I  wanted  to  hear  them,"  repeated  Victoria.  She  held 
out  her  hand  to  him. 

"  You're  not  going  to  ride  home  !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  I'll 
take  you  up  in  my  buggy  —  it's  in  the  station  shed." 

She  smiled,  turned  and  questioned  and  thanked  the 
men,  examined  the  girths  and  bridle,  and  stroked  the 
five-year-old  on  the  neck.  He  was  wet  from  mane  to 
fetlocks. 

"I  don't  think  he'll  care  to  run  much  farther,"  she 
said.  "If  you'll  pull  him  over  to  the  lumber  pile,  Mr. 
Gaylord,  I'll  mount  him." 

They  performed  her  bidding  in  silence,  each  paying  her 
a  tribute  in  his  thoughts.  As  for  the  five-year-old,  he 
was  quiet  enough  by  this  time.  When  she  was  in  the 
saddle  she  held  out  her  hand  once  more  to  Tom. 

"  I  hope  we  shall  meet  soon  again,"  she  said,  and  smil 
ing  back  at  him,  started  on  her  way  towards  Fairview. 

Tom  stood  for  a  moment  looking  after  her,  while  the 
two  men  indulged  in  surprised  comments. 

"Andrews,"  said  young  Mr.  Gaylord,  "just  fetch  my 
buggy  and  follow  her  until  she  gets  into  the  gate." 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

A  SPIRIT  IN  THE   WOODS 

EMPIRES  crack  before  they  crumble,  and  the  first  cracks 
seem  easily  mended  —  even  as  they  have  been  mended 
before.  A  revolt  in  Gaul  or  Britain  or  Thrace  is  little  to 
be  minded,  and  a  prophet  in  Judea  less.  And  yet  into 
him  who  sits  in  the  seat  of  power  a  premonition  of  some 
thing  impending  gradually  creeps  —  a  premonition  which 
he  will  not  acknowledge,  will  not  define.  Yesterday,  by 
the  pointing  of  a  finger,  he  created  a  province  ;  to-day  he 
dares  not,  but  consoles  himself  by  saying  he  does  not  wish 
to  point.  No  antagonist  worthy  of  his  steel  has  openly 
defied  him,  worthy  of  recognition  by  the  opposition  of  a 
legion.  But  the  sense  of  security  has  been  subtly  and 
indefinably  shaken. 

By  the  strange  telepathy  which  defies  language,  to  the 
Honourable  Hilary  Vane,  Governor  of  the  Province,  some 
such  unacknowledged  forebodings  have  likewise  been  com 
municated.  A  week  after  his  conversation  with  Austen, 
on  the  return  of  his  emperor  from  a  trip  to  New  York, 
the  Honourable  Hilary  was  summoned  again  to  the  foot 
of  the  throne,  and  his  thoughts  as  he  climbed  the  ridges 
towards  Fairview  were  not  in  harmony  with  the  carols  of 
the  birds  in  the  depths  of  the  forest  and  the  joy  of  the 
bright  June  weather.  Loneliness  he  had  felt  before,  and 
to  its  ills  he  had  applied  the  antidote  of  labour.  The 
burden  that  sat  upon  his  spirit  to-day  was  not  mere  loneli 
ness;  to  the  truth  of  this  his  soul  attested,  but  Hilary 
Vane  had  never  listened  to  the  promptings  of  his  soul. 
He  would  have  been  shocked  if  you  had  told  him  this. 
Did  he  not  confess,  with  his  eyes  shut,  his  sins  every 
Sunday  ?  Did  he  not  publicly  acknowledge  his  soul  ? 

293 


294  MR.   CREWE'S  CAREER 

Austen  Vane  had  once  remarked  that,  if  some  keen 
American  lawyer  would  really  put  his  mind  to  the  eva 
sion  of  the  Ten  Commandments,  the  High  Heavens  them 
selves  might  be  cheated.  This  saying  would  have  shocked 
the  Honourable  Hilary  inexpressibly.  He  had  never  been 
employed  by  a  syndicate  to  draw  up  papers  to  avoid  these 
mandates  ;  he  revered  them,  as  he  revered  the  Law,  which 
he  spelled  with  a  capital.  He  spelled  the  word  Soul 
with  a  capital  likewise,  and  certainly  no  higher  recogni 
tion  could  be  desired  than  this  ! 

Never  in  the  Honourable  Hilary's  long,  laborious,  and 
preeminently  model  existence  had  he  realized  that  happi 
ness  is  harmony.  It  would  not  be  true  to  assert  that, 
on  this  wonderful  June  day,  a  glimmering  of  this  truth 
dawned  upon  him.  Such  a  statement  would  be  open  to 
the  charge  of  exaggeration,  and  his  frame  of  mind  was 
pessimistic.  But  he  had  got  so  far  as  to  ask  himself  the 
question,  —  Cui  bono  ?  and  repeated  it  several  times  on 
his  drive,  until  a  verse  of  Scripture  came,  unbidden,  to 
his  lips.  "  For  what  hath  man  of  all  his  labour,  and  of  the 
vexation  of  his  heart,  wherein  he  hath  laboured  under  the 
sun?"  and  "there  is  one  event  unto  all.'''  Austen's  saying, 
that  he  had  never  learned  how  to  enjoy  life,  he  remem 
bered,  too.  What  had  Austen  meant  by  that? 

Hitherto  Hilary  Vane  had  never  failed  of  self-justi 
fication  in  any  event  which  had  befallen  him  ;  and  while 
this  consciousness  of  the  rectitude  of  his  own  attitude 
had  not  made  him  happier,  there  had  been  a  certain  grim 
pleasure  in  it.  To  the  fact  that  he  had  ruined,  by  sheer 
over-righteousness,  the  last  years  of  the  sunny  life  of 
Sarah  Austen  he  had  been  oblivious  —  until  to-day.  The 
strange,  retrospective  mood  which  had  come  over  him  this 
afternoon  led  his  thoughts  into  strange  paths,  and  he 
found  himself  wondering  if,  after  all,  it  had  not  been  in  his 
power  to  make  her  happier.  Her  dryad-like  face,  with 
its  sweet,  elusive  smile,  seemed  to  peer  at  him  now  wist 
fully  out  of  the  forest,  and  suddenly  a  new  and  startling 
thought  rose  up  within  him  —  after  six  and  thirty  years. 
Perhaps  she  had  belonged  in  the  forest !  Perhaps,  be- 


A  SPIRIT  IN  THE   WOODS  295 

cause  he  had  sought  to  cage  her,  she  had  pined  and  died ! 
The  thought  gave  Hilary  unwonted  pain,  and  he  strove 
to  put  it  away  from  him  ;  but  memories  such  as  these, 
once  aroused,  are  not  easily  set  at  rest,  and  he  bent  his 
head  as  he  recalled  (with  a  new  and  significant  pathos) 
those  hopeless  and  pitiful  flights  into  the  wilds  she 
loved. 

Now  Austen  had  gone.  Was  there  a  Law  behind  these 
actions  of  mother  and  son  which  he  had  persisted  in  de 
nouncing  as  vagaries?  Austen  was  a  man:  a  man,  Hilary 
could  not  but  see,  who  had  the  respect  of  his  fellows, 
whose  judgment  and  talents  were  becoming  recognized. 
Was  it  possible  that  he,  Hilary  Vane,  could  have  been 
one  of  those  referred  to  by  the  Preacher?  During  the 
week  which  had  passed  since  Austen's  departure  the 
house  in  Hanover  Street  had  been  haunted  for  Hilary. 
The  going  of  his  son  had  not  left  a  mere  void,  —  that 
would  have  been  pain  enough.  Ghosts  were  there,  ghosts 
which  he  could  but  dimly  feel  and  see,  and  more  than 
once,  in  the  long  evenings,  he  had  taken  to  the  streets  to 
avoid  them. 

In  that  week  Hilary's  fear  of  meeting  his  son  in  the 
street  or  in  the  passages  of  the  building  had  been  equalled 
by  a  yearning  to  see  him.  Every  morning,  at  the  hour 
Austen  was  wont  to  drive  Pepper  to  the  Ripton  House 
stables  across  the  square,  Hilary  had  contrived  to  be 
standing  near  his  windows  —  a  little  back,  and  out  of 
sight.  And  —  stranger  still !  — he  had  turned  from  these 
glimpses  to  the  reports  of  the  Honourable  Brush  Baseom 
and  his  associates  with  a  distaste  he  had  never  felt  before. 

With  sonie  such  thoughts  as  these  Hilary  Vane  turned 
into  the  last  straight  stretch  of  the  avenue  that  led  to 
Fairview  House,  with  its  red  and  white  awnings  gleaming 
in  the  morning  sun.  On  the  lawn,  against  a  white  and 
purple  mass  of  lilacs  and  the  darker  background  of  pines, 
a  straight  and  infinitely  graceful  figure  in  white  caught 
his  eye  and  held  it.  He  recognized  Victoria.  She  wore 
a  simple  summer  gown,  the  soft  outline  of  its  flounces 
mingling  subtly  with  the  white  clusters  behind  her.  She 


296  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

turned  her  head  at  the  sound  of  the  wheels  and  looked  at 
him  ;  the  distance  was  not  too  great  for  a  bow,  but  Hilary 
did  not  bow.  Something  in  her  face  deterred  him  from 
this  act,  —  something  which  he  himself  did  not  under 
stand  or  define.  He  sought  to  pronounce  the  incident 
negligible.  What  was  the  girl,  or  her  look,  to  him? 
And  yet  (he  found  himself  strangely  thinking)  he  had 
read  in  her  eyes  a  trace  of  the  riddle  which  had  been 
relentlessly  pursuing  him  ;  there  was  an  odd  relation  in 
her  look  to  that  of  Sarah  Austen.  During  the  long  years 
he  had  been  coming  to  Fairview,  even  before  the  new 
house  was  built,  when  Victoria  was  in  pinafores,  he  had 
never  understood  her.  When  she  was  a  child,  he  had 
vaguely  recognized  in  her  a  spirit  antagonistic  to  his 
own,  and  her  sayings  had  had  a  disconcerting  ring.  And 
now  this  simple  glance  of  hers  had  troubled  him  —  only 
more  definitely. 

It  was  a  new  experience  for  the  Honourable  Hilary  to 
go  into  a  business  meeting  with  his  faculties  astray. 
Absently  he  rang  the  stable  bell,  surrendered  his  horse, 
and  followed  a  footman  to  the  retired  part  of  the  house 
occupied  by  the  railroad  president.  Entering  the  oak- 
bound  sanctum,  he  crossed  it  and  took  a  seat  by  the 
window,  merely  nodding  to  Mr.  Flint,  who  was  dictating 
a  letter.  Mr.  Flint  took  his  time  about  the  letter,  but 
when  it  was  finished  he  dismissed  the  stenographer  with 
an  impatient  and  powerful  wave  of  the  hand  —  as  though 
brushing  the  man  bodily  out  of  the  room.  Remaining 
motionless  until  the  door  had  closed,  Mr.  Flint  turned 
abruptly  and  fixed  his  eyes  on  the  contemplative  figure  of 
his  chief  counsel. 

"Well?  "he  said. 

"  Well,  Flint,"  answered  the  Honourable  Hilary. 

"Well,"  said  Mr.  Flint,  "that  bridge  over  Maple  River 
has  got  loosened  up  so  by  the  freshet  that  we  have  to  keep 
freight  cars  on  it  to  hold  it  down,  and  somebody  is  trying 
to  make  trouble  by  writing  a  public  letter  to  the  Railroad 
Commission,  and  calling  attention  to  the  head-on  collision 
at  Barker's  Station." 


A  SPIRIT   IN  THE   WOODS  297 

"  Well,"  replied  the  Honourable  Hilary,  again,  "  that 
won't  have  any  influence  on  the  Railroad  Commission." 

"  No,"  said  Mr.  Flint,  "  but  it  all  goes  to  increase  this 
confounded  public  sentiment  that's  in  the  air,  like  small 
pox.  Another  jackass  pretends  to  have  kept  a  table 
of  the  through  trains  on  the  Sumsic  division,  and  says 
they've  averaged  forty-five  minutes  late  at  Edmundton. 
He  says  the  through  express  made  the  run  faster  thirty 
years  ago." 

"  I  guess  that's  so,"  said  the  Honourable  Hilary,  "  I  was 
counsel  for  that  road  then.  I  read  that  letter.  He  says 
there  isn't  an  engine  on  the  division  that  could  pull  his 
hat  off,  up  grade." 

Neither  of  the  two  gentlemen  appeared  to  deem  this 
statement  humorous. 

"  What  these  incendiaries  don't  understand,"  said  Mr. 
Flint,  "  is  that  we  have  to  pay  dividends." 

"  It's  because  they  don't  get  'em,"  replied  Mr.  Vane, 
sententiously. 

"  The  track  slid  into  the  water  at  Glendale,"  continued 
Mr.  Flint.  "  I  suppose  they'll  tell  us  we  ought  to  rock 
ballast  that  line.  You'll  see  the  Railroad  Commission,  and 
give  'em  a  sketch  of  a  report." 

"  I  had  a  talk  with  Young  yesterday,"  said  Mr.  Vane, 
his  eyes  on  the  stretch  of  lawn  and  forest  framed  by  the 
window.  For  the  sake  of  the  ignorant,  it  may  be  well  to 
add  that  the  Honourable  Orrin  Young  was  the  chairman 
of  the  Commission. 

"  And  now,"  said  Mr.  Flint,  "  not  that  this  Crewe 
business  amounts  to  that"  (here  the  railroad  president 
snapped  his  fingers  with  the  intensity  of  a  small  pistol 
shot),  "but  what's  he  been  doing?" 

"  Political  advertising,"  said  the  Honourable  Hilary. 

"  Plenty  of  it,  I  guess,"  Mr.  Flint  remarked  acidly. 
"  That's  one  thing  Tooting  can't  teach  him.  He's  a 
natural-born  genius  at  it." 

"  Tooting  can  help  —  even  at  that,"  answered  Mr.  Vane, 
ironically.  "  They've  got  a  sketch  of  so-called  North 
eastern  methods  in  forty  weekly  newspapers  this  week, 


298  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

with   a   picture    of   that  public   benefactor   and   martyr, 
Humphrey  Crewe.     Here's  a  sample  of  it." 

Mr.  Flint  waved  the  sample  away. 

"  You've  made  a  list  of  the  newspapers  that  printed  it?  " 
Mr.  Flint  demanded.  Had  he  lived  in  another  age  he 
might  have  added,  "  Have  the  malefactors  burned  alive 
in  my  garden." 

"  Brush  has  seen  some  of  'em,"  said  Mr.  Vane,  no  doubt 
referring  to  the  editors,  "  and  I  had  some  of  'em  come  to 
Ripton.  They've  got  a  lot  to  say  about  the  freedom  of 
the  press,  and  their  right  to  take  political  advertising. 
Crewe's  matter  is  in  the  form  of  a  despatch,  and  most  of 
'em  pointed  out  at  the  top  of  the  editorial  columns  that 
their  papers  are  not  responsible  for  despatches  in  the 
news  columns.  Six  of  'em  are  out  and  out  for  Crewe,  and 
those  fellows  are  honest  enough." 

"  Take  away  their  passes  and  advertising,"  said  Mr. 
Flint.  ("  Off  with  their  heads  ! "  said  the  Queen  of 
Hearts.) 

"I  wouldn't  do  that  if  I  were  you,  Flint;  they  might 
make  capital  out  of  it.  I  think  you'll  find  that  five  of  'em 
have  sent  their  passes  back,  anyway." 

"  Freeman  will  give  you  some  new  ideas "  (from  the 
"Book  of  Arguments,"  although  Mr.  Flint  did  not  say 
so)  "  which  have  occurred  to  me  might  be  distributed  for 
editorial  purposes  next  week.  And,  by  the  way,  what 
have  you  done  about  that  brilliant  Mr.  Coombes  of  the 
Johnstown  Ray,  who  says  4  the  Northeastern  Railroads  give 
us  a  pretty  good  government'?  " 

The  Honourable  Hilary  shook  his  head. 

"Too  much  zeal,"  he  observed.  "I  guess  he  won't  do 
it  again." 

For  a  while  after  that  they  talked  of  strictly  legal 
matters,  which  the  chief  counsel  produced  in  order  out  of 
his  bag.  But  when  these  were  finally  disposed  of,  Mr. 
Flint  led  the  conversation  back  to  the  Honourable  Hum 
phrey  Crewe,  who  stood  harmless  —  to  be  sure  —  like  a 
bull  on  the  track  which  it  might  be  unwise  to  run  over. 

"  He  doesn't  amount  to  a  soap  bubble  in  a  gale,"  Mr. 


A  SPIRIT  IN  THE   WOODS  299 

Flint  declared  contemptuously.  "  Sometimes  I  think  we 
made  a  great  mistake  to  notice  him." 

"  We  haven't  noticed  him,"  said  Mr.  Vane;  "the  news 
papers  have." 

Mr.  Flint  brushed  this  distinction  aside. 

"  That,"  he  said  irritably,  "  and  letting  Tooting 
go-" 

The  Honourable  Hilary's  eyes  began  to  grow  red.  In 
former  days  Mr.  Flint  had  not  often  questioned  his  judg 
ment. 

"  There's  one  thing  more  I  wanted  to  mention  to 
you,"  said  the  chief  counsel.  "  In  past  years  I  have 
frequently  drawn  your  attention  to  that  section  of  the 
act  of  consolidation  which  declares  that  rates  and  fares 
existing  at  the  time  of  its  passage  shall  not  be  increased." 

"Well,"  said  Mr.  Flint,  impatiently,  "well,  what  of 
it?" 

"  Only  this,"  replied  the  Honourable  Hilary,  "  you  dis 
regarded  my  advice,  and  the  rates  on  many  things  are 
higher  than  they  were." 

"  Upon  my  word,  Vane,"  said  Mr.  Flint,  "  I  wish  you'd 
chosen  some  other  day  to  croak.  What  do  you  want  me 
to  do?  Put  all  the  rates  back  because  this  upstart 
politician  Crewe  is  making  a  noise  ?  Who's  going  to  dig 
up  that  section?  " 

"  Somebody  has  dug  it  up,"  said  Mr.  Vane. 

This  was  the  last  straw. 

"  Speak  out,  man  !  "  he  cried.  "  What  are  you  leading 
up  to?" 

"Just  this,"  answered  the  Honourable  Hilary;  "that 
the  Gaylord  Lumber  Company  are  going  to  bring  suit 
under  that  section." 

Mr.  Flint  rose,  thrust  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  and 
paced  the  room  twice. 

"  Have  they  got  a  case  ?  "  he  demanded. 

"  It  looks  a  little  that  way  to  me,"  said  Mr.  Vane.  "I'm 
not  prepared  to  give  a  definite  opinion  as  yet." 

Mr.  Flint  measured  the  room  twice  again. 

"Did  that  old  fool  Hammer  stumble  on  to  this?  " 


300  MR.   CREWE'S  CAREER 

"Hammers  sick,"  said  Mr.  Vane;  "they  say  he's  got 
Bright's  disease.  My  son  discovered  that  section." 

There  was  a  certain  ring  of  pride  in  the  Honourable 
Hilary's  voice,  and  a  lifting  of  the  head  as  he  pronounced 
the  words  "  my  son,"  which  did  not  escape  Mr.  Flint. 
The  railroad  president  walked  slowly  to  the  arm  of  the 
chair  in  which  his  chief  counsel  was  seated,  and  stood 
looking  down  at  him.  But  the  Honourable  Hilary  ap 
peared  unconscious  of  what  was  impending. 

"  Your  son  I  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Flint.  "  So  your  son,  the 
son  of  the  man  who  has  been  my  legal  adviser  and  con 
fidant  and  friend  for  thirty  years,  is  going  to  join  the 
Crewes  and  Tootings  in  their  assaults  on  established 
decency  and  order!  He's  out  for  cheap  political  prefer 
ment,  too,  is  he?  By  thunder!  I  thought  that  he  had 
some  such  thing  in  his  mind  when  he  came  in  here  and 
threw  his  pass  in  my  face  and  took  that  Meader  suit.  I 
don't  mind  telling  you  that  he's  the  man  I've  been  afraid 
of  all  along.  He's  got  a  head  on  him  — I  saw  that  at  the 
start.  I  trusted  to  you  to  control  him,  and  this  is  how 
you  do  it." 

It  was  characteristic  of  the  Honourable  Hilary,  when 
confronting  an  angry  man,  to  grow  cooler  as  the  other's 
temper  increased. 

"  I  don't  want  to  control  him,"  he  said. 

"  I  guess  you  couldn't,"  retorted  Mr.  Flint. 

"  That's  a  better  way  of  putting  it,"  replied  the  Hon 
ourable  Hilary,  "I  couldn't." 

Sfhe  chief  counsel  for  the  Northeastern  Railroads  got  up 
and  went  to  the  window,  where  he  stood  for  some  time 
with  his  back  turned  to  the  president.  Then  Hilary  Vane 
faced  about. 

"  Mr.  Flint,"  he  began,  in  his  peculiar  deep  and  resonant 
voice,  "  you've  said  some  things  to-day  that  I  won't  forget. 
I  want  to  tell  you,  first  of  all,  that  I  admire  my  son." 

"  I  thought  so,"  Mr.  Flint  interrupted. 

"And  more  than  that."  the  Honourable  Hilary  contin 
ued,  "  I  prophesy  that  the  time  will  come  when  you'll 
admire  him.  Austen  Vane  never  did  an  underhanded 


A  SPIRIT  IN  THE  WOODS  301 

thing  in  his  life  —  or  committed  a  mean  action.  He's 
be'n  wild,  but  he's  always  told  me  the  truth.  I've  done 
him  injustice  a  good  many  times,  but  I  won't  stand  up 
and  listen  to  another  man  do  him  injustice."  Here  he 
paused,  and  picked  up  his  bag.  "I'm  going  down  to 
Ripton  to  write  out  my  resignation  as  counsel  for  your 
roads,  and  as  soon  as  you  can  find  another  man  to  act,  I 
shall  consider  it  accepted." 

It  is  difficult  to  put  down  on  paper  the  sensations 
of  the  president  of  the  Northeastern  Railroads  as  he 
listened  to  these  words  from  a  man  with  whom  he  had 
been  in  business  relations  for  over  a  quarter  of  a  century : 
a  man  upon  whose  judgment  he  had  always  relied  im 
plicitly,  who  had  been  a  strong  fortress  in  time  of  trouble. 
Such  sentences  had  an  incendiary,  blasphemous  ring  on 
Hilary  Vane's  lips  —  at  first.  It  was  as  if  the  sky  had 
fallen,  and  the  Northeastern  had  been  wiped  out  of  exist 
ence. 

Mr.  Flint's  feelings  were,  in  a  sense,  akin  to  those  of  a 
traveller  by  sea  who  wakens  out  of  a  sound  sleep  in  his 
cabin,  with  peculiar  and  unpleasant  sensations,  which  he 
gradually  discovers  are  due  to  cold  water,  and  he  realizes 
that  the  boat  on  which  he  is  travelling  is  sinking. 

The  Honourable  Hilary,  with  his  bag,  was  halfway  to 
the  door,  when  Mr.  Flint  crossed  the  room  in  three  strides 
and  seized  him  by  the  arm. 

"  Hold  on,  Vane,"  he  said,  speaking  with  some  difficulty  ; 
"I'm — I'm  a  little  upset  this  morning,  and  my  temper 
got  the  best  of  me.  You  and  I  have  been  good  friends  for 
too  many  years  for  us  to  part  this  way.  Sit  down  a  min 
ute,  for  God's  sake,  and  let's  cool  off.  I  didn't  intend  to 
say  what  I  did.  I  apologize." 

Mr.  Flint  dropped  his  counsel's  arm,  and  pulled  out  a 
handkerchief,  and  mopped  his  face.  "  Sit  down,  Hilary," 
he  said. 

The  Honourable  Hilary's  tight  lips  trembled.  Only- 
three  or  four  times  in  their  long  friendship  had  the  presi 
dent  made  use  of  his  first  name. 

"  You  wouldn't  leave  me  in  the  lurch  now,  Hilary,"  Mr. 


302  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

Flint  continued,  "  when  all  this  nonsense  is  in  the  air} 
Think  of  the  effect  such  an  announcement  would  have ! 
Everybody  knows  and  respects  you,  and  we  can't  do  with 
out  your  advice  and  counsel.  But  I  won't  put  it  on  that 
ground.  I'd  never  forgive  myself,  as  long  as  I  lived,  if  I 
lost  one  of  my  oldest  and  most  valued  personal  friends  in 
this  way." 

The  Honourable  Hilary  looked  at  Mr.  Flint,  and  sat 
down.  He  began  to  cut  a  piece  of  Honey  Dew,  but  his 
hand  shook.  It  was  difficult,  as  we  know,  for  him  to  give 
expression  to  his  feelings. 

"  All  right,"  he  said. 

Half  an  hour  later  Victoria,  from  under  the  awning  of 
the  little  balcony  in  front  of  her  mother's  sitting  room,  saw 
her  father  come  out  bareheaded  into  the  sun  and  escort 
the  Honourable  Hilary  Vane  to  his  buggy.  This  was  an 
unwonted  proceeding. 

Victoria  loved  to  sit  in  that  balcony,  a  book  lying  neg 
lected  in  her  lap,  listening  to  the  summer  sounds :  the 
tinkle  of  distant  cattle  bells,  the  bass  note  of  a  hurrying 
bee,  the  strangely  compelling  song  of  the  hermit-thrush, 
which  made  her  breathe  quickly ;  the  summer  wind,  stirring 
wantonly,  was  prodigal  with  perfumes  gathered  from  the 
pines  and  the  sweet  June  clover  in  the  fields  and  the 
banks  of  flowers ;  in  the  distance,  across  the  gentle  fore 
ground  of  the  hills,  Sawanec  beckoned  —  did  Victoria  but 
raise  her  eyes!  —  to  a  land  of  enchantment. 

The  appearance  of  her  father  and  Hilary  had  broken  her 
re  very,  and  a  new  thought,  like  a  pain,  had  clutched  her. 
The  buggy  rolled  slowly  down  the  drive,  and  Mr.  Flint, 
staring  after  it  a  moment,  went  in  the  house.  After  a 
few  minutes  he  emerged  again,  an  old  felt  hat  on  his  head 
which  he  was  wont  to  wear  in  the  country  and  a  stick  in 
his  hand.  Without  raising  his  eyes,  he  started  slowly 
across  the  lawn  ;  and  to  Victoria,  leaning  forward  inteatly 
over  the  balcony  rail,  there  seemed  an  unwonted  lack  of 
purpose  in  his  movements.  Usually  he  struck  out  briskly 
in  the  direction  of  the  pastures  where  his  prize  Guernseys 
were  feeding,  stopping  on  the  way  to  pick  up  the  manager 


A  SPIRIT  IN  THE  WOODS  303 

of  his  farm.  There  are  signs,  unknown  to  men,  which 
women  read,  and  Victoria  felt  her  heart  beating,  as  she 
turned  and  entered  the  sitting  room  through  the  French 
window.  A  trained  nurse  was  softly  closing  the  door  of 
the  bedroom  on  the  right. 

"  Mrs.  Flint  is  asleep,"  she  said. 

"  I  am  going  out  for  a  little  while,  Miss  Oliver,"  Victoria 
answered,  and  the  nurse  returned  a  gentle  smile  of  under 
standing. 

Victoria,  descending  the  stairs,  hastily  pinned  on  a  hat 
which  she  kept  in  the  coat  closet,  and  hurried  across  the 
lawn  in  the  direction  Mr.  Flint  had  taken.  Reaching  the 
pine  grove,  thinned  by  a  famous  landscape  architect,  she 
paused  involuntarily  to  wonder  again  at  the  ultramarine 
of  Sawanec  through  the  upright  columns  of  the  trunks 
under  the  high  canopy  of  boughs.  The  grove  was  on  a 
plateau,  which  was  cut  on  the  side  nearest  the  mountain 
by  the  line  of  a  gray  stone  wall,  under  which  the  land  fell 
away  sharply.  Mr.  Flint  was  seated  on  a  bench,  his 
hands  clasped  across  his  stick,  and  as  she  came  softly  over 
the  carpet  of  the  needles  he  did  not  hear  her  until  she 
stood  beside  him. 

"  You  didn't  tell  me  that  you  were  going  for  a  walk," 
she  said  reproachfully. 

He  started,  and  dropped  his  stick.  She  stooped  quickly, 
picked  it  up  for  him,  and  settled  herself  at  his  side. 

"I  —  I  didn't  expect  to  go,  Victoria,"  he  answered. 

"  You  see,"  she  said,  "  it's  useless  to  try  to  slip  away. 
I  saw  you  from  the  balcony." 

"  How's  your  mother  feeling  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  She's  asleep.  She  seems  better  to  me  since  she's 
come  back  to  Fairview." 

Mr.  Flint  stared  at  the  mountain  with  unseeing  eyes. 

"Father,"  said  Victoria,  "don't  you  think  you  ought  to 
stay  up  here  at  least  a  week,  and  rest  ?  I  think  so." 

"  No,"  he  said,  "  no.  There's  a  directors'  meeting  of  a 
trust  company  to-morrow  which  I  have  to  attend.  I'm' 
not  tired." 

Victoria  shook  her  head,  smiling  at  him  with  serious  eyes. 


304  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

"I  don't  believe  you  know  when  you  are  tired,"  she 
declared.  "  I  can't  see  the  good  of  all  these  directors' 
meetings.  Why  don't  you  retire,  and  live  the  rest  of 
your  life  in  peace  ?  You've  got  —  money  enough,  and 
even  if  you  haven't,"  she  added,  with  the  little  quiver 
of  earnestness  that  sometimes  came  into  her  voice,  "we 
could  sell  this  big  house  and  go  back  to  the  farmhouse  to 
live.  We  used  to  be  so  happy  there." 

He  turned  abruptly,  and  fixed  upon  her  a  steadfast, 
searching  stare  that  held,  nevertheless,  a  strange  tender 
ness  in  it. 

"  You  don't  care  for  all  this,  do  you,  Victoria  ? "  he 
demanded,  waving  his  stick  to  indicate  the  domain  of 
Fairview. 

She  laughed  gently,  and  raised  her  eyes  to  the  green 
roof  of  the  needles. 

"  If  we  could  only  keep  the  pine  grove !  "  she  sighed. 
"  Do  you  remember  what  good  times  we  ha,d  in  the  farm 
house,  when  you  and  I  used  to  go  off  for  whole  days 
together  ?  " 

"Yes,"  said  Mr.  Flint,  "yes." 

"  We  don't  do  that  any  more,"  said  Victoria.  "  It's 
only  a  little  drive  and  a  walk,  now  and  then.  And  they 
seem  to  be  growing  —  scarcer." 

Mr.  Flint  moved  uneasily,  and  made  an  attempt  to  clear 
his  voice. 

"  I  know  it,"  he  said,  and  further  speech  seemingly 
failed  him.  Victoria  had  the  greater  courage  of  the  two. 

"  Why  don't  we  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  I've  often  thought  of  it,"  he  replied,  still  seeking  his 
words  with  difficulty.  "  I  find  myself  with  more  to  do 
every  year,  Victoria,  instead  of  less." 

"  Then  why  don't  you  give  it  up  ?  " 

"  Why  ?  "  he  asked,  "  why  ?  Sometimes  I  wish  with 
my  whole  soul  I  could  give  it  up.  I've  always  said  that 
you  had  more  sense  than  most  women,  but  even  you  could 
not  understand." 

"  I  could  understand,"  said  Victoria. 

He  threw  at  her  another  glance,  —  a  ring  in  her  words 


A  SPIRIT   IN  THE   WOODS  305 

proclaimed  their  truth  in  spite  of  his  determined  doubt. 
In  her  eyes  —  had  he  but  known  it !  —  was  a  wisdom  that 
exceeded  his. 

"  You  don't  realize  what  you're  saying,"  he  exclaimed ; 
"  I  can't  leave  the  helm." 

"  Isn't  it,"  she  said,  "  rather  the  power  that  is  so  hard 
to  relinquish  ?  " 

The  feelings  of  Augustus  Flint  when  he  heard  this 
question  were  of  a  complex  nature.  It  was  the  second 
time  that  day  he  had  been  shocked,  —  the  first  being 
when  Hilary  Vane  had  unexpectedly  defended  his  son. 
The  word  Victoria  had  used,  power,  had  touched  him  on 
the  quick.  What  had  she  meant  by  it  ?  Had  she  been 
his  wife  and  not  his  daughter,  he  would  have  flown  into 
a  rage.  Augustus  Flint  was  not  a  man  given  to  the  psy 
chological  amusement  of  self-examination ;  he  had  never 
analyzed  his  motives.  He  had  had  little  to  do  with 
women,  except  Victoria.  The  Rose  of  Sharon  knew  him 
as  the  fountainhead  from  which  authority  and  money 
flowed,  but  Victoria,  since  her  childhood,  had  been  his  ref 
uge  from  care,  and  in  the  haven  of  her  companionship  he 
had  lost  himself  for  brief  moments  of  his  life.  She  was 
the  one  being  he  really  loved,  with  whom  he  consulted  on 
such  affairs  of  importance  as  he  felt  to  be  within  her 
scope  and  province,  —  the  cattle,  the  men  on  the  place 
outside  of  the  household,  the  wisdom  of  buying  the 
Baker  farm ;  bequests  to  charities,  paintings,  the  library ; 
and  recently  he  had  left  to  her  judgment  the  European 
baths  and  the  kind  of  treatment  which  her  mother  had 
required.  Victoria  had  consulted  with  the  physicians 
in  Paris,  and  had  made  these  decisions  herself.  From  a 
child  she  had  never  shown  a  disposition  to  evade  respon 
sibility. 

To  his  intimate  business  friends,  Mr.  Flint  was  in  the 
habit  of  speaking  of  her  as  his  right-hand  man,  but  she 
was  circumscribed  by  her  sex,  —  or  rather  by  Mr.  Flint's 
idea  of  her  sex,  —  and  it  never  occurred  to  him  that  she 
could  enter  into  the  larger  problems  of  his  life.  For  this 
reason  he  had  never  asked  himself  whether  such  a  state 


306  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

of  affairs  would  be  desirable.  In  reality  it  was  her  synv 
pathy  he  craved,  and  such  an  interpretation  of  himself  as 
he  chose  to  present  to  her. 

So  her  question  was  a  shock.  He  suddenly  beheld  his 
daughter  transformed,  a  new  personality  who  had  been 
thinking,  and  thinking  along  paths  which  he  had  never 
cared  to  travel. 

"  The  power!  "  he  repeated.  "  What  do  you  mean  by 
that,  Victoria?" 

She  sat  for  a  moment  on  the  end  of  the  bench,  gazing  at 
him  with  a  questioning,  searching  look  which  he  found 
disconcerting.  What  had  happened  to  his  daughter? 
He  little  guessed  the  tumult  in  her  breast.  She  herself 
could  not  fully  understand  the  strange  turn  the  conversa 
tion  had  taken  towards  the  gateway  of  the  vital  things. 

"  It  is  natural  for  men  to  love  power,  isn't  it  ?  " 

"  I  suppose  so,"  said  Mr.  Flint,  uneasily.  "  I  don't 
know  what  you're  driving  at,  Victoria." 

"  You  control  the  lives  and  fortunes  of  a  great  many 
people." 

"  That's  just  it,"  answered  Mr.  Flint,  with  a  dash  at 
this  opening ;  "  my  responsibilities  are  tremendous.  I 
can't  relinquish  them." 

"  There  is  no  —  younger  man  to  take  your  place  ?  Not 
that  I  mean  you  are  old,  father,"  she  continued,  "  but  you 
have  worked  very  hard  all  your  life,  and  deserve  a  holi 
day  the  rest  of  it." 

"  I  don't  know  of  any  younger  man,"  said  Mr.  Flint. 
"  I  don't  mean  to  say  I'm  the  only  person  in  the  world 
who  can  safeguard  the  stockholders'  interests  in  the  North 
eastern.  But  I  know  the  road  and  its  problems.  I  don't 
understand  this  from  you,  Victoria.  It  doesn't  sound  like 
you.  And  as  for  letting  go  the  helm  now,"  he  added,  with 
a  short  laugh  tinged  with  bitterness,  "I'd  be  posted  all 
over  the  country  as  a  coward." 

"  Why?"  asked  Victoria,  in  the  same  quiet  way. 

"  Why?  Because  a  lot  of  discontented  and  disappointed 
people  who  have  made  failures  of  their  lives  are  trying  to 
'give  me  as  much  trouble  as  they  can." 


A   SPIRIT  IN  THE  WOODS  307 

"  Are  you  sure  they  are  all  disappointed  and  discontented, 
father?"  she  said. 

"  What !  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Flint,  "  you  ask  me  that  ques 
tion?  You,  my  own  daughter,  about  people  who  are  try 
ing  to  make  me  out  a  rascal !  " 

"  I  don't  think  they  are  trying  to  make  you  out  a  rascal 
—  at  least  most  of  them  are  not,"  said  Victoria.  "  I  don't 
think  the  —  what  you  might  call  the  personal  aspect 
enters  in  with  the  honest  ones." 

Mr.  Flint  was  inexpressibly  amazed.  He  drew  a  long 
breath. 

"  Who  are  the  honest  ones  ?  "  he  cried.  "  Do  you  mean 
to  say  that  you,  my  own  daughter,  are  defending  these 
charlatans  ?  " 

"Listen,  father,"  said  Victoria.  "I  didn't  mean  to 
worry  you,  I  didn't  mean  to  bring  up  that  subject  to-day. 
Come  —  let's  go  for  a  walk  and  see  the  new  barn." 

But  Mr.  Flint  remained  firmly  planted  on  the  bench. 

"  Then  you  did  intend  to  bring  up  the  subject  —  some 
day  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Yes,"  said  Victoria.  She  sat  down  again.  "  I  have 
often  wanted  to  hear  —  your  side  of  it." 

"  Whose  side  have  you  heard  ?  "  demanded  Mr.  Flint. 

A  crimson  flush  crept  into  her  cheek,  but  her  father  was 
too  disturbed  to  notice  it. 

"  You  know,"  she  said  gently,  "I  go  about  the  country 
a  good  deal,  and  I  hear  people  talking,  —  farmers,  and  la 
bourers,  and  people  in  the  country  stores  who  don't  know 
that  I'm  your  daughter." 

"  WThat  do  they  say  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Flint,  leaning  forward 
eagerly  and  aggressively. 

Victoria  hesitated,  turning  over  the  matter  in  her 
mind. 

"  You  understand,  I  am  merely  repeating  what  they 
say — " 

"  Yes,  yes,"  he  interrupted,  "  I  want  to  know  how  far 
this  thing  has  gone  among  them." 

"Well,"  continued  Victoria,  looking  at  him  bravely, 
"as  nearly  as  I  can  remember  their  argument  it  is  this: 


308  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

that  the  Northeastern  Railroads  control  the  politics  of  the 
State  for  their  own  benefit.  That  you  appoint  the  govern 
ors  and  those  that  go  to  the  Legislature,  and  that  —  Hilary 
Vane  gets  them  elected.  They  say  that  he  manages  a 
political  machine  —  that's  the  right  word,  isn't  it? — for 
you.  And  that  no  laws  can  be  passed  of  which  you 
do  not  approve.  And  they  say  that  the  politicians 
whom  Hilary  Vane  commands,  and  the  men  whom  they  put 
into  office  are  all  beholden  to  the  railroad,  and  are  of  a  sort 
which  good  citizens  cannot  support.  They  say  that  the 
railroad  has  destroyed  the  people's  government." 

Mr.  Flint,  for  the  moment  forgetting  or  ignoring  the 
charges,  glanced  at  her  in  astonishment.  The  arraign 
ment  betrayed  an  amount  of  thought  on  the  subject  which 
he  had  not  suspected. 

"  Upon  my  word,  Victoria,"  he  said,  "  you  ought  to 
take  the  stump  for  Humphrey  Crewe." 

She  reached  out  with  a  womanly  gesture,  and  laid  her 
hand  upon  his. 

"I  am  only  telling  you  —  what  I  hear,"  she  said. 
"Won't  you  explain  to  me  the  way  you  look  at  it? 
These  people  don't  all  seem  to  be  dishonest  men  or  char 
latans.  Some  of  them,  I  know,  are  honest."  And  her 
colour  rose  again. 

"  Then  they  are  dupes  and  fools,"  Mr.  Flint  declared 
vehemently.  "  I  don't  know  how  to  explain  it  to  you  — 
the  subject  is  too  vast,  too  far-reaching.  One  must  have 
had  some  business  experience  to  grasp  it.  I  don't  mean  to 
say  you're  not  intelligent,  but  I'm  at  a  loss  where  to  begin 
with  you.  Looked  at  from  their  limited  point  of  view,  it 
would  seem  as  if  they  had  a  case.  I  don't  mean  your 
friend,  Humphrey  Crewe  —  it's  anything  to  get  office  with 
him.  Why,  he  came  up  here  and  begged  me  —  " 

"  I  wasn't  thinking  of  Humphrey  Crewe,"  said  Victoria. 

Mr.  Flint  gave  an  ejaculation  of  distaste. 

"  He's  no  more  of  a  reformer  than  I  am.  And  now 
we've  got  that  wild  son  of  Hilary  Vane's  —  the  son  of  one 
of  my  oldest  friends  and  associates  —  making  trouble. 
He's  bitten  with  this  thing,  too,  and  he's  got  some  brains 


A  SPIRIT  IN  THE  WOODS  309 

in  his  head.  Why,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Flint,  stopping 
abruptly  and  facing  his  daughter,  "  you  know  him  !  He's 
the  one  who  drove  you  home  that  evening  from  Crewe's 
party." 

"  I  remember,"  Victoria  faltered,  drawing  her  hand 
away. 

"  I  wasn't  very  civil  to  him  that  night,  but  I've  always 
been  on  the  lookout  for  him.  I  sent  him  a  pass  once,  and 
he  came  up  here  and  gave  me  as  insolent  a  talking  to  as  I 
ever  had  in  my  life." 

.  How  well  Victoria  recalled  that  first  visit,  and  how  she 
had  wondered  about  the  cause  of  it!  So  her  father  and 
Austen  Vane  had  quarrelled  from  the  first. 

"  I'm  sure  he  didn't  mean  to  be  insolent,"  she  said,  in  a 
low  voice.  "  He  isn't  at  all  that  sort." 

"  I  don't  know  what  sort  he  is,  except  that  he  isn't  my 
sort,"  Mr.  Flint  retorted,  intent  upon  the  subject  which 
had  kindled  his  anger  earlier  in  the  day.  "  I  don't  pre 
tend  to  understand  him.  He  could  probably  have  been 
counsel  for  the  road  if  he  had  behaved  decently.  Instead, 
he  starts  in  with  suits  against  us.  He's  hit  upon  some 
thing  now." 

The  president  of  the  Northeastern  dug  savagely  into 
the  ground  with  his  stick,  and  suddenly  perceived  that 
his  daughter  had  her  face  turned  away  from  his,  towards 
the  mountain. 

"Well,  I  won't  bore  you  with  that." 

She  turned  with  a  look  in  her  eyes  that  bewildered 
him. 

"You're  not  —  boring  me,"  she  said. 

"  I  didn't  intend  to  go  into  all  that,"  he  explained 
more  calmly,  "  but  the  last  few  days  have  been  trying. 
We've  got  to  expect  the  wind  to  blow  from  all  direc 
tions." 

Victoria  smiled  at  him  faintly. 

"  I  have  told  you,"  she  said,  "  that  what  you  need 
is  a  trip  abroad.  Perhaps  some  day  you  will  remember 
it. 

"  Maybe  I'll  go  in  the  autumn,"  he  answered,  smiling 


310  MR.   CREWE'S  CAREER 

back  at  her.  "  These  little  flurries  don't  amount  to  any 
thing  more  than  mosquito-bites  —  only  mosquitoes  are 
irritating.  You  and  I  understand  each  other,  Victoria,  — 
and  now  listen.  I'll  give  you  the  broad  view  of  this 
subject,  the  view  I've  got  to  take,  and  I've  lived  in  the 
world  and  seen  more  of  it  than  some  folks  who  think  they 
know  it  all.  I  am  virtually  the  trustee  for  thousands  of 
stockholders,  many  of  whom  are  widows  and  orphans. 
These  people  are  innocent;  they  rely  on  my  ability,  and  my 
honesty,  for  their  incomes.  Few  men  who  have  not  had 
experience  in  railroad  management  know  one-tenth  of  the 
difficulties  and  obstructions  encountered  by  a  railroad 
president  who  strives  to  do  his  duty  by  the  road.  My 
business  is  to  run  the  Northeastern  as  economically  as  is 
consistent  with  good  service  and  safety,  and  to  give  the 
stockholders  the  best  return  for  their  money.  I  am  the 
steward  —  and  so  long  as  I  am  the  steward,"  he  exclaimed, 
"  I'm  going  to  do  what  I  think  is  right,  taking  into  con 
sideration  all  the  difficulties  that  confront  me." 

He  got  up  and  took  a  turn  or  two  on  the  pine-needles. 
Victoria  regarded  him  in  silence.  He  appeared  to  her  at 
that  moment  the  embodiment  of  the  power  he  represented. 
Force  seemed  to  emanate  from  him,  and  she  understood 
more  clearly  than  ever  how,  from  a  poor  boy  on  an  obscure 
farm  in  Truro,  he  had  risen  to  his  present  height. 

"  I  don't  say  the  service  is  what  it  should  be,"  he  went 
on,  "but  give  me  time  —  give  me  time.  With  all  this 
prosperity  in  the  country  we  can't  handle  the  freight. 
We  haven't  got  cars  enough,  tracks  enough,  engines 
enough.  I  won't  go  into  that  with  you.  But  1  do  expect 
you  to  understand  this:  that  politicians  are  politicians; 
they  have  always  been  corrupt  as  long  as  I  have  known 
them,  and  in  my  opinion  they  always  will  be.  The  North 
eastern  is  the  largest  property  holder  in  the  State,  pays 
the  biggest  tax,  and  has  the  most  at  stake.  The  politicians 
could  ruin  us  in  a  sin  ale  session  of  the  Legislature  —  and 
what's  more,  they  would  do  it.  We'd  have  to  be  paying 
blackmail  all  the  time  to  prevent  measures  that  would 
compel  us  to  go  out  of  business.  This  is  a  fact,  and  not  a 


A  SPIRIT  IN  THE  WOODS  311 

theory.  What  little  influence  I  exert  politically  I  have  to 
maintain  in  order  to  protect  the  property  of  my  stock 
holders  from  annihilation.  It  isn't  to  be  supposed,"  he 
concluded,  "  that  I'm  going  to  see  the  State  turned  over 
to  a  man  like  Humphrey  Crewe.  I  wish  to  Heaven  that 
this  and  every  other  State  had  a  George  Washington  for 
governor  and  a  majority  of  Robert  Morrises  in  the  Legis 
lature.  If  they  exist,  in  these  days,  the  people  won't  elect 
'em  —  that's  all.  The  kind  of  man  the  people  will  elect, 
if  you  let  'em  alone,  is  a  man  who  brings  in  a  bill  and 
comes  to  you  privately  and  wants  you  to  buy  him  off." 

"  Oh,  father,"  Victoria  cried,  "  I  can't  believe  that  of 
the  people  I  see  about  here !  They  seem  so  kind  and 
honest  and  high-principled." 

Mr.  Flint  gave  a  short  laugh. 

"  They're  dupes,  I  tell  you.  They're  at  the  mercy  of 
any  political  schemer  who  thinks  it  worth  his  while  to 
fool  'em.  Take  Leith,  for  instance.  There's  a  man  over 
there  who  has  controlled  every  office  in  that  town  for 
twenty-five  years  or  more.  He  buys  and  sells  votes  and 
credentials  like  cattle.  His  name  is  Job  Braden." 

"  Why,"  said  Victoria,  "  I  saw  him  at  Humphrey  Crewe's 
garden-party." 

"  I  guess  you  did,"  said  Mr.  Flint,  "  and  I  guess  Hum 
phrey  Crewe  saw  him  before  he  went." 

Victoria  was  silent,  the  recollection  of  the  talk  between 
Mr.  Tooting  and  Mr.  Crewe  running  through  her  mind, 
and  Mr.  Tooting's  saying  that  he  had  done  "  dirty  things  " 
for  the  Northeastern.  She  felt  that  this  was  something 
she  could  not  tell  her  father,  nor  could  she  answer  his 
argument  with  what  Tom  Gaylord  had  said.  She  could 
not,  indeed,  answer  Mr.  Flint's  argument  at  all;  the  sub 
ject,  as  he  had  declared,  being  too  vast  for  her.  And  more 
over,  as  she  well  knew,  Mr.  Flint  was  a  man  whom  other 
men  could  not  easily  answer;  he  bore  them  down,  even  as 
he  had  borne  her  down.  Involuntarily  her  mind  turned 
to  Austen,  and  she  wondered  what  he  had  said;  she  won 
dered  how  he  would  have  answered  her  father  —  whether 
he  could  have  answered  him.  And  she  knew  not  what  to 


312  MR.   CREWE'S  CAREER 

think.  Could  it  be  right,  in  a  position  of  power  and  re 
sponsibility,  to  acknowledge  evil  and  deal  with  it  as  evil  ? 
That  was,  in  effect,  the  gist  of  Mr.  Flint's  contention. 
She  did  not  know.  She  had  never  (strangely  enough,  she 
thought)  sought  before  to  analyze  the  ethical  side  of  her 
father's  character.  One  aspect  of  him  she  had  shared  with 
her  mother,  that  he  was  a  tower  of  defence  and  strength, 
and  that  his  name  alone  had  often  been  sufficient  to  get 
difficult  things  done. 

Was  he  right  in  this  ?  And  were  his  opponents  char 
latans,  or  dupes,  or  idealists  who  could  never  be  effec 
tive  ?  Mr.  Crewe  wanted  an  office ;  Tom  Gaylord  had  a 
suit  against  the  road,  and  Austen  Vane  was  going  to 
bring  that  suit !  What  did  she  really  know  of  Austen 
Vane  ?  But  her  soul  cried  out  treason  at  this,  and  she 
found  herself  repeating,  with  intensity,  "  I  believe  in 
him  !  I  believe  in  him  !  "  She  would  have  given  worlds 
to  have  been  able  to  stand  up  before  her  father  and  tell 
him  that  Austen  would  not  bring  the  suit  at  this  time  — 
that  Austen  had  not  allowed  his  name  to  be  mentioned, 
for  office  in  this  connection,  and  had  spurned  Mr.  Crewe's 
advances.  But  she  had  not  seen  Austen  since  February. 

What  was  his  side  of  it  ?  He  had  never  told  her,  and 
she  respected  his  motives  —  yet,  what  was  his  side  ? 
Fresh  from  the  inevitably  deep  impressions  which  her 
father's  personality  had  stamped  upon  her,  she  won 
dered  if  Austen  could  cope  with  the  argument  before 
which  she  had  been  so  helpless. 

The  fact  that  she  made  of  each  of  these  two  men  the 
embodiment  of  a  different  and  opposed  idea  did  not  occur 
to  Victoria  until  that  afternoon.  Unconsciously,  each 
had  impersonated  the  combatants  in  a  struggle  which 
was  going  on  in  her  own  breast.  Her  father  himself, 
instinctively,  had  chosen  Austen  Vane  for  his  antagonist 
without  knowing  that  she  had  an  interest  in  him.  Would 
Mr.  Flint  ever  know?  Or  would  the  time  come  when 
she  would  be  forced  to  take  a  side?  The  blood  mounted 
to  her  temples  as  she  put  the  question  from  her. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

v  ME.    JABE   JENNEY  ENTERTAINS 

MB.  FLINT  had  dropped  the  subject  with  his  last  re 
mark,  nor  had  Victoria  attempted  to  pursue  it.  Bewil 
dered  and  not  a  little  depressed  (a  new  experience  for 
her),  she  had  tried  to  hide  her  feelings.  He,  too,  was 
harassed  and  tired,  and  she  had  drawn  him  away  from 
the  bench  and  through  the  pine  woods  to  the  pastures  to 
look  at  his  cattle  and  the  model  barn  he  was  building  for 
them.  At  half -past  three,  in  her  runabout,  she  had  driven 
him  to  the  East  Tunbridge  station,  where  he  had  taken 
the  train  for  New  York.  He  had  waved  her  a  good-by 
from  the  platform,  and  smiled  :  and  for  a  long  time,  as  she 
drove  through  the  silent  roads,  his  words  and  his  manner 
remained  as  vivid  as  though  he  were  still  by  her  side. 
He  was  a  man  who  had  fought  and  conquered,  and  who 
fought  on  for  the  sheer  love  of  it. 

It  was  a  blue  day  in  the  hill  country.  At  noon  the 
clouds  had  crowned  Sawanec  —  a  sure  sign  of  rain ;  the 
rain  had  come  and  gone,  a  June  downpour,  and  the  over 
cast  sky  lent  (Victoria  fancied)  to  the  country-side  a  new 
atmosphere.  The  hills  did  not  look  the  same.  It  was 
the  kind  of  a  day  when  certain  finished  country  places 
are  at  their  best  —  or  rather  seem  best  to  express  their 
meaning ;  a  day  for  an  event ;  a  day  set  strangely  apart 
with  an  indefinable  distinction.  Victoria  recalled  such 
days  in  her  youth  when  weddings  or  garden-parties  had 
brought  canopies  into  service,  or  news  had  arrived  to  upset 
the  routine  of  the  household.  Raindrops  silvered  the 
pines,  and  the  light  winds  shook  them  down  on  the 
road  in  a  musical  shower. 

313 


314  MR.  CREWE'S  CAREER 

Victoria  was  troubled,  as  she  drove,  over  a  question 
which  had  recurred  to  her  many  times  since  her  talk  that 
morning:  had  she  been  hypocritical  in  not  telling  her 
father  that  she  had  seen  more  of  Austen  Vane  than  she 
had  implied  by  her  silence  ?  For  many  years  Victoria 
had  chosen  her  own  companions;  when  the  custom  had 
begun,  her  mother  had  made  a  protest  which  Mr.  Flint 
had  answered  with  a  laugh ;  he  thought  Victoria's  judg 
ment  better  than  his  wife's.  Ever  since  that  time  the 
Rose  of  Sharon  had  taken  the  attitude  of  having  washed 
her  hands  of  responsibility  for  a  course  which  must  in 
evitably  lead  to  ruin.  She  discussed  some  of  Victoria's 
acquaintances  with  Mrs.  Pomfret  and  other  intimates; 
and  Mrs.  Pomfret  had  lost  no  time  in  telling  Mrs.  Flint 
about  her  daughter's  sleigh-ride  at  the  State  capital  with 
a  young  man  from  Ripton  who  seemed  to  be  seeing  en 
tirely  too  much  of  Victoria.  Mrs.  Pomfret  had  marked 
certain  danger  signs,  and  as  a  conscientious  woman  was 
obliged  to  speak  of  them.  Mrs.  Pomfret  did  not  wish  to 
see  Victoria  make  a  mesalliance. 

"  My  dear  Fanny,"  Mrs.  Flint  had  cried,  lifting  herself 
from  the  lace  pillows,  "  what  do  you  expect  me  to  do  — 
especially  when  I  have  nervous  prostration?  I've  tried 
to  do  my  duty  by  Victoria  —  goodness  knows  —  to  bring 
her  up  among  the  sons  and  daughters  of  the  people  who 
are  my  friends.  They  tell  me  that  she  has  tempera 
ment —  whatever  that  may  be.  I'm  sure  I  never  found 
out,  except  that  the  best  thing  to  do  with  people  who 
have  it  is  to  let  them  alone  and  pray  for  them.  When 
we  go  abroad  I  like  the  Ritz  and  Claridge's  and  that  new 
hotel  in  Rome.  I  see  my  friends  there.  Victoria,  if  you 
please,  likes  the  little  hotels  in  the  narrow  streets  where 
you  see  nobody,  and  where  you  are  most  uncomfortable." 
(Miss  Oliver,  it's  time  for  those  seven  drops.)  "As  I 
was  saying,  Victoria's  enigmatical  —  hopeless,  although  a 
French  comtesse  who  wouldn't  look  at  anybody  at  the 
baths  this  spring  became  wild  about  her,  and  a  certain 
type  of  elderly  English  peer  always  wants  to  marry  her. 
(I  suppose  I  do  look  pale  to-day.)  Victoria  loves  art, 


MR.   JABE  JENNEY  ENTERTAINS  315 

and  really  knows  something  about  it.  She  adores  to 
potter  around  those  queer  places  abroad  where  you  see 
strange  English  and  Germans  and  Americans  with  red 
books  in  their  hands.  What  am  I  to  do  about  this  young 
man  of  whom  you  speak  —  whatever  his  name  is?  I  sup 
pose  Victoria  will  marry  him  —  it  would  be  just  like  her. 
But  what  can  I  do,  Fanny?  I  can't  manage  her,  and 
it's  no  use  going  to  her  father.  He  would  only  laugh. 
Augustus  actually  told  me  once  there  was  no  such  thing 
as  social  position  in  this  country !  " 

- "  American  men  of  affairs,"  Mrs.  Pomfret  judicially 
replied,  "  are  too  busy  to  consider  position.  They  make 
it,  my  dear,  as  a  by-product."  Mrs.  Pomfret  smiled,  and 
mentally  noted  this  aptly  technical  witticism  for  use  again. 

"  I  suppose  they  do,"  assented  the  Rose  of  Sharon,  "  and 
their  daughters  sometimes  squander  it,  just  as  their  sons 
squander  their  money." 

"  I'm  not  at  all  sure  that  Victoria  is  going  to  squander 
it,"  was  Mrs.  Pomfret's  comforting  remark.  "  She  is  too 
much  of  a  personage,  and  she  has  great  wealth  behind 
her.  I  wish  Alice  were  more  like  her,  in  some  ways. 
Alice  is  so  helpless,  she  has  to  be  prodded  and  prompted 
continually.  I  can't  leave  her  for  a  moment.  And  when 
she  is  married,  I'm  going  into  a  sanatorium  for  six  months." 

"  I  hear,"  said  Mrs.  Flint,  "  that  Humphrey  Crewe  is 
quite  epris." 

"  Poor  dear  Humphrey !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Pomfret, 
"  he  can  think  of  nothing  else  but  politics." 

But  we  are  not  to  take  up  again,  as  yet,  the  deeds  of 
the  crafty  Ulysses.  In  order  to  relate  an  important  con 
versation  between  Mrs.  Pomfret  and  the  Rose  of  Sharon, 
we  have  gone  back  a  week  in  this  history,  and  have  left 
Victoria — absorbed  in  her  thoughts  —  driving  over  a 
wood  road  of  many  puddles  that  led  to  the  Four  Corners, 
near  Avalon.  The  road  climbed  the  song-laden  valley 
of  a  brook,  redolent  now  with  scents  of  which  the  rain 
had  robbed  the  fern,  but  at  length  Victoria  reached  an 
upland  where  th£  young  corn  was  springing  from  the 
black  furrows  tRat  followed  the  contours  of  the  hillsides, 


316  MR.  CREWE'S  CAREER 

where  the  big-eyed  cattle  lay  under  the  heavy  maples  and 
oaks  or  gazed  at  her  across  the  fences. 

Victoria  drew  up  in  front  of  an  unpainted  farm-house 
straggling  beside  the  road,  a  farm-house  which  began 
with  the  dignity  of  fluted  pilasters  and  ended  in  a  tum 
ble-down  open  shed  filled  with  a  rusty  sleigh  and  a  hun 
dred  nondescript  articles  —  some  of  which  seemed  to  be 
moving.  Intently  studying  this  phenomenon  from  her 
runabout,  she  finally  discovered  that  the  moving  objects 
were  children;  one  of  whom,  a  little  girl,  came  out  and 
stared  at  her. 

"  How  do  you  dor  Mary?  "  said  Victoria.  "  Isn't  your 
name  Mary?" 

The  child  nodded. 

"I  remember  you,"  she  said;  "you're  the  rich  lady 
mother  met  at  the  party,  that  got  father  a  job." 

Victoria  smiled.  And  such  was  the  potency  of  the 
smile  that  the  child  joined  in  it. 

"  Where's  brother  ?  "  asked  Victoria.  "  He  must  be 
quite  grown  up  since  we  gave  him  lemonade." 

Mary  pointed  to  the  woodshed. 

"  O  dear ! "  exclaimed  Victoria,  leaping  out  of  the 
runabout  and  hitching  her  horse,  "  aren't  you  afraid 
some  of  those  sharp  iron  things  will  fall  on  him?" 
She  herself  rescued  brother  from  what  seemed  untimely 
and  certain  death,  and  set  him  down  in  safety  in  the 
middle  of  the  grass  plot.  He  looked  up  at  her  with 
the  air  of  one  whose  dignity  has  been  irretrievably  in 
jured,  and  she  laughed  as  she  reached  down  and  pulled 
his  nose.  Then  his  face,  too,  became  wreathed  in  smiles. 

"  Mary,  how  old  are  you?  " 

"Seven,  ma'am." 

"  And  I'm  five,"  Mary's  sister  chimed  in. 

"I  want  you  to  promise  me,"  said  Victoria,  "that  you 
won't  let  brother  play  in  that  shed.  And  the  very  next 
time  I  come  I'll  bring  you  both  the  nicest  thing  I  can  think 
of." 

Mary  began  to  dance. 

"  We'll  promise,  we'll  promise  !  "  she  cried  for  both,  and 


MR.   JABE  JENNEY  ENTERTAINS  317 

at  this  juncture  Mrs.  Fitch,  who  had  run  from  the  wash- 
tub  to  get  into  her  Sunday  waist,  came  out  of  the  door. 

"  So  you  hain't  forgot  me !  "  she  exclaimed.  "I  \\ as 
almost  afeard  you'd  forgot  me." 

"I've  been  away,"  said  Victoria,  gently  taking  the 
woman's  hand  and  sitting  down  on  the  doorstep. 

"  Don't  set  there,"  said  Mrs.  Fitch ;  "  come  into  the 
parlour.  You'll  dirty  your  dress  —  Mary  !  "  This  last  in 
admonition. 

"  Let  her  stay  where  she  is,"  said  Victoria,  putting  her 
arm  around  the  child.  "The  dress  washes,  and  it's  so 
nice  outside." 

"  You  rich  folks  certainly  do  have  strange  notions," 
declared  Mrs.  Fitch,  fingering  the  flounce  on  Victoria's 
skirt,  which  formed  the  subject  of  conversation  for  the 
next  few  minutes. 

"How  are  you  getting  on?  "  Victoria  asked  at  length. 

A  look  of  pain  came  into  the  woman's  eyes. 

"You've  be'n  so  good  to  us,  and  done  so  much  gettin' 
Eben  a  job  on  your  father's  place,  that  I  don't  feel  as  if  I 
ought  to  lie  to  you.  He  done  it  again  —  on  Saturday 
night.  First  time  in  three  months.  The  manager  up  at 
Fairview  don't  know  it.  Eben  was  all  right  Monday." 

"  I'm  sorry,"  said  Victoria,  simply.     "  Was  it  bad  ?  " 

"  It  might  have  be'n.  Young  Mr.  Vane  is  stayin'  up 
at  Jabe  Jenney's  —  you  know,  the  first  house  as  you  turn 
off  the  hill  road.  Mr.  Vane  heard  some  way  what  you'd 
done  for  us,  and  he  saw  Eben  in  Ripton  Saturday  night, 
and  made  him  get  into  his  buggy  and  come  home.  I 
guess  he  had  a  time  with  Eben.  Mr.  Vane,  he  came  around 
here  on  Sunday,  and  gave  him  as  stiff  a  talkin'  to  as  he 
ever  got,  I  guess.  He  told  Eben  he'd  ought  to  be  ashamed 
of  himself  goin'  back  on  folks  who  was  tryin'  to  help  him 
pay  his  mortgage.  And  I'll  say  this  for  Eben,  he  was 
downright  ashamed.  He  told  Mr.  Vane  he  could  lick  him 
if  he  caught  him  drunk  again,  and  Mr.  Vane  said  he  would. 
My,  what  a  pretty  colour  you've  got  to-day ! " 

Victoria  rose.  "I'm  going  to  send  you  down  some 
washing,"  she  said. 


318  MR.    CREWE'S   CAREER 

Mrs.  Fitch  insisted  upon  untying  the  horse,  while  Vic 
toria  renewed  her  promises  to  the  children. 

There  were  two  ways  of  going  back  to  Fairview,  —  a 
long  and  a  short  way,  —  and  the  long  way  led  by  Jabe 
Jenney's  farm.  Victoria  came  to  the  fork  in  the  road, 
paused,  —  and  took  the  long  way.  Several  times  after 
this,  she  pulled  her  horse  dowii  to  a  walk,  and  was  appar 
ently  on  the  point  of  turning  around  again  :  a  disinterested 
observer  in  a  farm  wagon,  whom  she  passed,  thought  that 
she  had  missed  her  road.  "  The  first  house  after  you  turn 
off  the  hill  road,"  Mrs.  Fitch  had  said.  She  could  still, 
of  course,  keep  on  the  hill  road,  but  that  would  take  her 
to  Weymouth,  and  she  would  never  get  home. 

It  is  useless  to  go  into  the  reasons  for  this  act  of 
Victoria's.  She  did  not  know  them  herself.  The  nearer 
Victoria  got  to  Mr.  Jenney's,  the  more  she  wished  herself 
back  at  the  forks.  Suppose  Mrs.  Fitch  told  him  of  her 
visit  !  Perhaps  she  could  pass  the  Jenneys'  unnoticed. 
The  chances  of  this,  indeed,  seemed  highly  favourable,  and 
it  was  characteristic  of  her  sex  that  she  began  to  pray 
fervently  to  this  end.  Then  she  turned  off  the  hill  road, 
feeling  as  though  she  had  but  to  look  back  to  see  the 
smoke  of  the  burning  bridges. 

Victoria  remembered  the  farm  now ;  for  Mr.  Jabe 
Jenney,  being  a  person  of  importance  in  the  town  of  Leith, 
had  a  house  commensurate  with  his  estate.  The  house 
was  not  large,  but  its  dignity  was  akin  to  Mr.  Jenney's 
position  :  it  was  painted  a  spotless  white,  and  not  a  shingle 
or  a  nail  was  out  of  place.  Before  it  stood  the  great  trees 
planted  by  Mr.  Jenney's  ancestors,  which  Victoria  and 
other  people  had  often  paused  on  their  drives  to  admire, 
and  on  the  hillside  was  a  little,  old-fashioned  flower  gar 
den  ;  lilacs  clustered  about  the  small-paned  windows,  and 
a  bitter-sweet  clung  to  the  roof  and  pillars  of  the  porch. 
These  details  of  the  place  (which  she  had  never  before 
known  as  Mr.  Jenney's)  flashed  into  Victoria's  mind 
before  she  caught  sight  of  the  great  trees  themselves 
looming  against  the  sombre  blue-black  of  the  sky :  the 
wind,  rising  fitfully,  stirred  the  leaves  with  a  sound  like 


MR.   JABE  JENNEY  ENTERTAINS  319 

falling  waters,  and  a  great  drop  fell  upon  her  cheek. 
Victoria  raised  her  eyes  in  alarm,  and  across  the  open 
spaces,  toward  the  hills  which  piled  higher  and  higher 
yet  against  the  sky,  was  a  white  veil  of  rain.  She  touched, 
with  her  whip  the  shoulder  of  her  horse,  recalling  a  farm 
a  quarter  of  a  mile  beyond  —  she  must  not  be  caught 
here ! 

More  drops  followed,  and  the  great  trees  seemed  to 
reach  out  to  her  a  protecting  shelter.  She  spoke  to  the 
horse.  Beyond  the  farm-house,  on  the  other  side  of  the 
road,  was  a  group  of  gray,  slate-shingled  barns,  and  here 
two  figures  confronted  her.  One  was  that  of  the  comfort 
able,  middle-aged  Mr.  Jenney  himself,  standing  on  the 
threshold  of  the  barn,  and  laughing  heartily,  and  crying : 
"  Hang  on  to  him  !  That's  right  —  get  him  by  the 
nose ! " 

The  person  thus  addressed  had  led  a  young  horse  to 
water  at  the  spring  which  bubbled  out  of  a  sugar-kettle 
hard  by ;  and  the  horse,  quivering,  had  barely  touched 
his  nostrils  to  the  water  when  he  reared  backward,  jerk 
ing  the  halter-rope  taut.  Then  followed,  with  bewildering 
rapidity,  a  series  of  manoeuvres  on  the  part  of  the  horse  to 
get  away,  and  on  the  part  of  the  person  to  prevent  this,  and 
inasmuch  as  the  struggle  took  place  in  the  middle  of  the 
road,  Victoria  had  to  stop.  By  the  time  the  person  had 
got  the  horse  by  the  nose,  —  shutting  off  his  wind,  —  the 
rain  was  coming  down  in  earnest. 

"Drive  right  in,"  cried  Mr.  Jenney,  hospitably;  "you'll 
get  wet.  Look  out,  Austen,  there's  a  lady  comin'.  Why, 
it's  Miss  Flint  !  " 

Victoria  knew  that  her  face  must  be  on  fire.  She  felt 
Austen  Vane's  quick  glance  upon  her,  but  she  did  not 
dare  look  to  the  right  or  left  as  she  drove  into  the  barn. 
There  seemed  no  excuse  for  any  other  course. 

"  How  be  you?  "  said  Mr.  Jenney  ;  "kind  of  lucky  you 
happened  along  here,  wahn't  it?  You'd  have  been  soaked 
before  you  got  to  Harris's.  How  be  you?  I  ain't  seen 
you  since  that  highfalutin  party  up  to  Crewe's." 

"  It's  very  kind  of  you  to  let  me  come  in,  Mr.  Jenney. 


320  MR.   CREWE'S  CAREER 

But  I  have  a  rain-coat  and  a  boot,  and  —  I  really  ought  to 
be  going  on." 

Here  Victoria  produced  the  rain-coat  from  under  the 
seat.  The  garment  was  a  dark  blue,  and  Mr.  Jenney  felt 
of  its  gossamer  weight  with  a  good-natured  contempt. 

"  That  wouldn't  be  any  more  good  than  so  much  cheese 
cloth,"  he  declared,  nodding  in  the  direction  of  the  white 
sheet  of  the  storm.  "  Would  it,  Austen !  " 

She  turned  her  head  slowly  and  met  Austen's  eyes. 
Fortunate  that  the  barn  was  darkened,  that  he  might  not 
see  how  deep  the  colour  mantling  in  her  temples !  His 
head  was  bare,  and  she  had  never  really  marked  before 
the  superb  setting  of  it  on  his  shoulders,  for  he  wore  a 
gray  flannel  shirt  open  at  the  neck,  revealing  a  bronzed 
throat.  His  sinewy  arms  —  weather-burned,  too  —  were 
bare  above  the  elbows. 

Explanations  of  her  presence  sprang  to  her  lips,  but  she 
put  them  from  her  as  subterfuges  unworthy  of  him.  She 
would  not  attempt  to  deceive  him  in  the  least.  She  had 
wished  to  see  him  again  —  nor  did  she  analyze  her  motives. 
Once  more  beside  him,  the  feeling  of  confidence,  of  belief 
in  him,  rose  within  her  and  swept  all  else  away  —  burned 
in  a  swift  consuming  flame  the  doubts  of  absence.  He 
took  her  hand,  but  she  withdrew  it  quickly. 

"  This  is  a  fortunate  accident,"  he  said,  —  "  fortunate,  at 
least,  for  me." 

"Perhaps  Mr.  Jenney  will  not  agree  with  you,"  she 
retorted. 

But  Mr.  Jenney  was  hitching  the  horse  and  throwing  a 
blanket  over  him.  Suddenly,  before  they  realized  it,  the 
farmer  had  vanished  into  the  storm,  and  this  unexplained 
desertion  of  their  host  gave  rise  to  an  awkward  silence 
between  them,  which  each  for  a  while  strove  vainly  to 
break.  In  the  great  moments  of  life,  trivialities  become 
dwarfed  and  ludicrous,  and  the  burden  of  such  occasions  is 
on  the  woman. 

"So  you've  taken  to  farming,"  she  said,  —  "isn't  it 
about  haying  time  ?  " 

He  laughed. 


MR.   JABE  JENNEY  ENTERTAINS  321 

"We  begin  next  week.  And  you  —  you've  come 
back  in  season  for  it.  I  hope  that  your  mother  is 
better." 

"  Yes,"  replied  Victoria,  simply,  "  the  baths  helped  her. 
But  I'm  glad  to  get  back,  —  I  like  my  own  country  so 
much  better,  —  and  especially  this  part  of  it,"  she  added. 
"  I  can  bear  to  be  away  from  New  York  in  the  winter,  but 
not  from  Fair  view  in  the  summer." 

At  this  instant  Mr.  Jenney  appeared  at  the  barn  door 
bearing  a  huge  green  umbrella. 

-  "  Come  over  to   the  house  —  Mis'  Jenney  is  expectin' 
you,"  he  said. 

Victoria  hesitated.  To  refuse  would  be  ungracious; 
moreover,  she  could  risk  no  misinterpretation  of  her  acts, 
and  she  accepted.  Mrs.  Jenney  met  her  on  the  doorstep, 
and  conducted  her  into  that  sanctum  reserved  for  occa 
sions,  the  parlour,  with  its  Bible,  its  flat,  old-fashioned 
piano,  its  samplers,  its  crayon  portrait  of  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Jenney  after  their  honeymoon;  with  its  aroma  that  sug 
gested  Sundays  and  best  manners.  Mrs.  Jenney,  with 
incredible  rapidity  (for  her  figure  was  not  what  it  had 
been  at  the  time  of  the  crayon  portrait),  had  got  into  a 
black  dress,  over  which  she  wore  a  spotless  apron.  She 
sat  in  the  parlour  with  her  guest  until  Mr.  Jenney  re 
appeared  with  shining  face  and  damp  hair. 

"  You'll  excuse  me,  my  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Jenney,  "  but 
the  supper's  on  the  stove,  and  I  have  to  run  out  now  and 
then." 

Mr.  Jenney  was  entertaining.  He  had  the  shrewd, 
humorous  outlook  upon  life  characteristic  of  the  best 
type  of  New  England  farmer,  and  Victoria  got  along  with 
him  famously.  His  comments  upon  his  neighbours  were 
kindly  but  incisive,  except  when  the  question  of  spirit 
uous  liquors  occurred  to  him.  Austen  Vane  he  thought 
the  world  of,  and  dwelt  upon  this  subject  a  little  longer 
than  Victoria,  under  the  circumstances,  would  have 
wished. 

"  He  comes  out  here  just  like  it  was  home,"  said  Mr. 
Jenney,  "  and  helps  with  the  hosses  and  cows  the  same  as 


322  MR.   CREWE'S  CAREER 

if  he  wasn't  gettin'  to  be  one  of  the  greatest  lawyers  in 
the  State." 

"  O  dear,  Mr.  Jenney,"  said  Victoria,  glancing  out  of 
the  window,  "I'll  really  have  to  go  home.  I'm  sure  it 
won't  stop  raining  for  hours.  But  I  shall  be  perfectly 
dry  in  my  rain-coat,  —  no  matter  how  much  you  may  de 
spise  it." 

"  You're  not  a-going  to  do  anything  of  the  kind,"  cried 
Mrs.  Jenney  from  the  doorway.  "  Supper's  all  ready,  and 
you're  going  to  walk  right  in." 

"  Oh,  I  really  have  to  go,"  Victoria  exclaimed. 

"  Now  I  know  it  ain't  as  grand  as  you'd  get  at  home," 
said  Mr.  Jenney.  "It  ain't  what  we'd  give  you,  Miss 
Victoria,  —  that's  only  simple  home  fare,  —  it's  what  youd 
give  us.  It's  the  honour  of  having  you,"  he  added,  —  and 
Victoria  thought  that  no  courtier  could  have  worded  an 
invitation  better.  She  would  not  be  missed  at  Fairview. 
Her  mother  was  inaccessible  at  this  hour,  and  the  servants 
would  think  of  her  as  dining  at  Leith.  The  picture  of 
the  great,  lonely  house,  of  the  ceremonious  dinner  which 
awaited  her  single  presence,  gave  her  an  irresistible  long 
ing  to  sit  down  with  these  simple,  kindly  souls.  Austen 
was  the  only  obstacle.  He,  too,  had  changed  his  clothes, 
and  now  appeared,  smiling  at  her  behind  Mrs.  Jenney. 
The  look  of  prospective  disappointment  in  the  good 
woman's  face  decided  Victoria. 

"  I'll  stay,  with  pleasure,"  she  said. 

Mr.  Jenney  pronounced  grace.  Victoria  sat  across  the 
table  from  Austen,  and  several  times  the  consciousness  of 
his  grave  look  upon  her  as  she  talked  heightened  the 
colour  in  her  cheek.  He  said  but  little  during  the  meal. 
Victoria  heard  how  well  Mrs.  Jenney's  oldest  son  was 
doing  in  Springfield,  and  how  the  unmarried  daughter 
was  teaching,  now,  in  the  West.  Asked  about  Europe,  — 
that  land  of  perpetual  mystery  to  the  native  American,  — 
the  girl  spoke  so  simply  and  vividly  of  some  of  the  won 
ders  she  had  seen  that  she  held  the  older  people  entranced 
long  after  the  meal  was  finished.  But  at  length  she 
observed,  with  a  start,  the  gathering  darkness.  In  the 


MR.   JABE  JENNEY  ENTERTAINS  323 

momentary  happiness  of  this  experience,  she  had  been 
forgetful. 

"  I  will  drive  home  with  you,  if  you'll  allow  me,"  said 
Austen. 

"  Oh,  no,  I  really  don't  need  an  escort,  Mr.  Vane.  I'm 
so  used  to  driving  about  at  night,  I  never  think  of  it,"  she 
answered. 

"  Of  course  he'll  drive  home  with  you,  dear,"  said  Mrs. 
Jenney.  "  And,  Jabe,  you'll  hitch  up  and  go  and  fetch 
Austen  back." 

"  Certain,"  Mr.  Jenney  agreed. 

The  rain  had  ceased,  and  the  indistinct  outline  of  the 
trees  and  fences  betrayed  the  fact  that  the  clouds  were 
already  thinning  under  the  moon.  Austen  had  lighted 
the  side  lamps  of  the  runabout,  revealing  the  shining 
pools  on  the  road  as  they  drove  along  —  for  the  first  few 
minutes  in  silence. 

44  It  was  very  good  of  you  to  stay,"  he  said  ;  "  you  do  not 
know  how  much  pleasure  you  have  given  them." 

Her  feminine  appreciation  responded  to  the  tact  of  this 
remark :  it  was  so  distinctly  what  he  should  have  said ! 
How  delicate,  she  thought,  must  be  his  understanding  of 
her,  that  he  should  have  spoken  so ! 

"  I  was  glad  to  stay,"  she  answered,  in  a  low  voice.  "  I 
—  enjoyed  it,  too." 

"  They  have  very  little  in  their  lives,"  he  said,  and 
added,  with  a  characteristic  touch,  "I  do  not  mean  to 
say  that  your  coming  would  not  be  an  event  in  any 
household." 

She  laughed  with  him,  softly,  at  this  sally. 

"  Not  to  speak  of  the  visit  you  are  making  them,"  she 
replied. 

"  Oh,  I'm  one  of  the  family,"  he  said  ;  "  I  come  and  go. 
Jabe's  is  my  country  house,  when  I  can't  stand  the  city 
any  longer." 

She  saw  that  he  did  not  intend  to  tell  her  why  he  had 
left  Ripton  on  this  occasion.  There  fell  another  silence. 
They  were  like  prisoners,  and  each  strove  to  explore  the 
bounds  of  their  captivity :  each  sought  a  lawful  ground 


324  MR.  CREWE'S  CAREER 

of  communication.  Victoria  suddenly  remembered  —  with 
an  access  of  indignation  —  her  father's  words,  "  I  do  not 
know  what  sort  he  is,  but  he  is  not  my  sort."  A  while 
ago,  and  she  had  blamed  herself  vehemently  for  coming 
to  Jabe  Jenney's,  and  now  the  act  had  suddenly  become 
sanctified  in  her  sight.  She  did  not  analyze  her  feeling 
for  Austen,  but  she  was  consumed  with  a  fierce  desire 
that  justice  should  be  done  him.  "  He  was  honourable  — 
honourable !  "  she  found  herself  repeating  under  her 
breath.  No  man  or  woman  could  look  into  his  face, 
take  his  hand,  sit  by  his  side,  without  feeling  that  he 
was  as  dependable  as  the  stars  in  their  courses.  And 
her  father  should  know  this,  must  be  made  to  know  it. 
This  man  was  to  be  distinguished  from  opportunists  and 
self-seekers,  from  fanatics  who  strike  at  random.  His 
chief  possession  was  a  priceless  one  —  a  conscience. 

As  for  Austen,  it  sufficed  him  for  the  moment  that  he 
had  been  lifted,  by  another  seeming  caprice  of  fortune, 
to  a  seat  of  torture  the  agony  whereof  was  exquisite. 
An  hour,  and  only  the  ceaseless  pricking  memory  of  it 
would  abide.  The  barriers  had  risen  higher  since  he  had 
seen  her  last,  but  still  he  might  look  into  her  face  and 
know  the  radiance  of  her  presence.  Could  he  only  trust 
himself  to  guard  his  tongue !  But  the  heart  on  such 
occasions  will  cheat  language  of  its  meaning. 

"  What  have  you  been  doing  since  I  saw  you  last?  "  she 
asked.  "  It  seems  that  you  still  continue  to  lead  a  life  of 
violence." 

"Sometimes  I  wish  I  did,"  he  answered,  with  a  laugh; 
"  the  humdrum  existence  of  getting  practice  enough  to 
keep  a  horse  is  not  the  most  exciting  in  the  world.  To 
what  particular  deed  of  violence  do  you  refer?" 

"  The  last  achievement,  which  is  in  every  one's  mouth, 
that  of  —  assisting  Mr.  Tooting  down-stairs." 

"I  have  been  defamed,"  Austen  laughed;  "he  fell 
down,  I  believe.  But  as  I  have  a  somewhat  evil  repu 
tation,  and  as  he  came  out  of  my  entry,  people  draw 
their  own  conclusions.  I  can't  imagine  who  told  you  that 
story." 


MR.   JABE  JENNEY  ENTERTAINS  325 

"  Never  mind,"  she  answered.  "  You  see,  I  have  certain 
sources  of  information  about  you." 

He  tingled  over  this,  and  puzzled  over  it  so  long  that 
she  laughed. 

"  Does  that  surprise  you?  "  she  asked.  "  I  fail  to  see 
why  I  should  be  expected  to  lose  all  interest  in  my 
friends  —  even  if  they  appear  to  have  lost  interest  in  me." 

"  Oh,  don't  say  that !  "  he  cried  so  sharply  that  she 
wished  her  words  unsaid.  "  You  can't  mean  it !  You 
don't  know !  " 

She  trembled  at  the  vigorous  passion  he  put  into  the 
words. 

"No,  I  don't  mean  it,"  she  said  gently. 

The  wind  had  made  a  rent  in  the  sheet  of  the  clouds, 
and  through  it  burst  the  moon  in  her  full  glory,  flood 
ing  field  and  pasture,  and  the  black  stretches  of  pine 
forest  at  their  feet.  Below  them  the  land  fell  away, 
and  fell  again  to  the  distant  broadening  valley,  to 
where  a  mist  of  white  vapour  hid  the  course  of  the  Blue. 
And  beyond,  the  hills  rose  again,  tier  upon  tier,  to  the 
shadowy  outline  of  Sawanec  herself  against  the  hurrying 
clouds  and  the  light-washed  sky.  Victoria,  gazing  at  the 
scene,  drew  a  deep  breath,  and  turned  and  looked  at  him 
in  the  quick  way  which  he  remembered  so  well. 

"  Sometimes,"  she  said,  "  it  is  so  beautiful  that  it  hurts 
to  look  at  it.  You  love  it  —  do  you  ever  feel  that  way?  " 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  but  his  answer  was  more  than  the 
monosyllable.  "  I  can  see  that  mountain  from  my  win 
dow,  and  it  seriously  interferes  with  my  work.  I  really 
ought  to  move  into  another  building." 

There  was  a  little  catch  in  her  laugh. 

"  And  I  watch  it,"  she  continued,  "  I  watch  it  from 
the  pine  grove  by  the  hour.  Sometimes  it  smiles,  and 
sometimes  it  is  sad,  and  sometimes  it  is  far,  far  away, 
so  remote  and  mysterious  that  I  wonder  if  it  is  ever  to 
come  back  and  smile  again." 

"  Have  you  ever  seen  the  sunrise  from  its  peak  ?  "  said 
Austen. 

"  No.     Oh,  how  I  should  love  to  see  it !  "  she  exclaimed. 


326  MR.  CREWE'S   CAREER 

"  Yes,  you  would  like  to  see  it,"  he  answered  simply. 
He  would  like  to  take  her  there,  to  climb,  with  her 
hand  in  his,  the  well-known  paths  in  the  darkness,  to 
reach  the  summit  in  the  rosy-fingered  dawn :  to  see 
her  stand  on  the  granite  at  his  side  in  the  full  glory  of 
the  red  light,  and  to  show  her  a  world  which  she  was 
henceforth  to  share  with  him. 

Some  such  image,  some  such  vision  of  his  figure  on  the 
rock,  may  have  been  in  her  mind  as  she  turned  her  face 
again  toward  the  mountain. 

"You  are  cold,"  he  said,  reaching  for  the  mackintosh 
in  the  back  of  the  trap. 

"  No,"  she  said.  But  she  stopped  the  horse  and  acqui 
esced  by  slipping  her  arms  into  the  coat,  and  he  felt  upon 
his  hand  the  caress  of  a  stray  wisp  of  hair  at  her  neck. 
Under  a  spell  of  thought  and  feeling,  seemingly  laid  by 
the  magic  of  the  night,  neither  spoke  for  a  space.  And 
then  Victoria  summoned  her  forces,  and  turned  to  him 
again.  Her  tone  bespoke  the  subtle  intimacy  that  always 
sprang  up  between  them,  despite  bars  and  conventions. 

"  I  was  sure  you  would  understand  why  I  wrote  you 
from  New  York,"  she  said,  "although  I  hesitated  a  long 
time  before  doing  so.  It  was  very  stupid  of  me  not  to 
realize  the  scruples  which  made  you  refuse  to  be  a  candi 
date  for  the  governorship,  and  I  wanted  to  —  to  apolo 
gize." 

"It  wasn't  necessary,"  said  Austen,  "but  —  I  valued 
the  note."  The  words  seemed  so  absurdly  inadequate  to 
express  his  appreciation  of  the  treasure  which  he  carried 
with  him,  at  that  moment,  in  his  pocket.  "  But,  really," 
he  added,  smiling  at  her  in  the  moonlight,  "  I  must  pro 
test  against  your  belief  that  I  could  have  been  an  effective 
candidate  I  I  have  roamed  about  the  State,  and  I  have 
made  some  very  good  friends  here  and  there  among  the 
hill  farmers,  like  Mr.  Jenney.  Mr.  Redbrook  is  one  of 
these.  But  it  would  have  been  absurd  of  me  even  to 
think  of  a  candidacy  founded  on  personal  friendships. 
I  assure  you,"  he  added,  smiling,  "there  was  no  self- 
denial  in  my  refusal." 


MR.   JABE   JENNEY  ENTERTAINS  327 

She  gave  him  an  appraising  glance  which  he  found  at 
once  enchanting  and  disconcerting. 

"You  are  one  of  those  people,  I  think,  who  do  not 
know  their  own  value.  If  I  were  a  man,  and  such  men 
as  Mr.  Redbrook  and  Mr.  Jenney  knew  me  and  believed 
sufficiently  in  me  and  in  my  integrity  of  purpose  to  ask 
me  to  be  their  candidate  "  (here  she  hesitated  an  instant), 
"  and  I  believed  that  the  cause  were  a  good  one,  I  should 
not  have  felt  justified  in  refusing.  That  is  what  I  meant. 
I  have  always  thought  of  you  as  a  man  of  force  and  a  man 
of  action.  But  I  did  not  see  —  the  obstacle  in  your  way." 
She  hesitated  once  more,  and  added,  with  a  courage  which 
did  not  fail  of  its  direct  appeal,  "  I  did  not  realize  that 
you  would  be  publicly  opposing  your  father.  And  I  did 
not  realize  that  you  would  not  care  to  criticise  —  mine." 

On  the  last  word  she  faltered  and  glanced  at  his  profile. 
Had  she  gone  too  far  ? 

"  I  felt  that  you  would  understand,"  he  answered.  He 
could  not  trust  himself  to  speak  further.  How  much  did 
she  know  ?  And  how  much  was  she  capable  of  grasping  ? 

His  reticence  served  only  to  fortify  her  trust  —  to 
elevate  it.  It  was  impossible  for  her  not  to  feel  some 
thing  of  that  which  was  in  him  and  crying  for  utterance. 
She  was  a  woman.  And  if  this  one  action  had  been  but 
the  holding  of  her  coat,  she  would  have  known.  A  man 
who  could  keep  silent  under  these  conditions  must  indeed 
be  a  rock  of  might  and  honour ;  and  she  felt  sure  now, 
with  a  surging  of  joy,  that  the  light  she  had  seen  shining 
from  it  was  the  beacon  of  truth.  A  question  trembled  on 
her  lips  —  the  question  for  which  she  had  long  been  gath 
ering  strength.  Whatever  the  outcome  of  this  commu 
nion,  she  felt  that  there  must  be  absolute  truth  between 
them. 

"  I  want  to  ask  you  something,  Mr.  Vane  —  I  have 
been  wanting  to  for  a  long  time." 

She  saw  the  muscles  of  his  jaw  tighten,  —  a  manner  he 
had  when  earnest  or  determined,  —  and  she  wondered  in 
agitation  whether  he  divined  what  she  was  going  to  say.  He 
turned  his  face  slowly  to  hers,  and  his  eyes  were  troubled. 


328  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

"  Yes,"  he  said. 

"  You  have  always  spared  my  feelings,"  she  went  on. 
"  Now  —  now  I  am  asking  for  the  truth  —  as  you  see  it. 
Do  the  Northeastern  Railroads  wrongfully  govern  this 
State  for  their  own  ends  ?  " 

Austen,  too,  as  he  thought  over  it  afterwards,  in  the 
night,  was  surprised  at  her  concise  phrasing,  suggestive, 
as  it  was,  of  much  reflection.  But  at  the  moment,  al 
though  he  had  been  prepared  for  and  had  braced  himself 
against  something  of  this  nature,  he  was  nevertheless 
overcome  by  the  absolute  and  fearless  directness  of  her 
speech. 

"That  is  a  question,"  he  answered,  "which  you  will 
have  to  ask  your  father." 

"  I  have  asked  him,"  she  said,  in  a  low  voice  ;  "  I  want 
to  know  what  —  you  believe." 

"  You  have  asked  him  !  "  he  repeated,  in  astonishment. 

"  Yes.  You  mustn't  think  that,  in  asking  you,  I  am 
unfair  to  him  in  any  way  —  or  that  I  doubt  his  sincerity. 
We  have  been  "  (her  voice  caught  a  little)  "  the  closest 
friends  ever  since  I  was  a  child."  She  paused.  "But  I 
want  to  know  what  you  believe." 

The  fact  that  she  emphasized  the  last  pronoun  sent 
another  thrill  through  him.  Did  it,  then,  make  any  dif 
ference  to  her  what  he  believed  ?  Did  she  mean  to 
differentiate  him  from  out  of  the  multitude  ?  He  had 
to  steady  himself  before  he  answered  :  — 

"I  have  sometimes  thought  that  my  own  view  might 
not  be  broad  enough." 

She  turned  to  him  again. 

"  Why  are  you  evading  ?  "  she  asked.  "  I  am  sure  it 
is  not  because  you  have  not  settled  convictions.  And  I 
have  asked  you  —  a  favour." 

"  You  have  done  me  an  honour,"  he  answered,  and 
faced  her  suddenly.  "You  must  see,"  he  cried,  with  a 
power  and  passion  in  his  voice  that  startled  and  thrilled 
her  in  turn,  "  you  must  see  that  it's  because  I  wish  to  be 
fair  that  I  hesitate.  I  would  tell  you  —  anything.  I  do 
not  agree  with  my  own  father,  —  we  have  been  —  apart 


MR.   JABE  JENNEY  ENTERTAINS  329 

—  for  years  because  of  this.  And  I  do  not  agree  with 
Mr.  Flint.  I  am  sure  that  they  both  are  wrong.  But  I 
cannot  help  seeing  their  point  of  view.  These  practices 
are  the  result  of  an  evolution,  of  an  evolution  of  their 
time.  They  were  forced  to  cope  with  conditions  in  the 
way  they  did,  or  go  to  the  wall.  They  make  the  mistake 
of  believing  that  the  practices  are  still  necessary  to-day." 

u  Oh  !  "  she  exclaimed,  a  great  hope  rising  within  her  at 
these  words.  "  Oh,  and  you  believe  they  are  not!  "  His 
explanation  seemed  so  simple,  so  inspiring.  And  above 
and  beyond  that,  he  was  sure.  Conviction  rang  in  every 
word.  Had  he  not,  she  remembered,  staked  his  career  by 
disagreeing  with  his  father?  Yes,  and  he  had  been  slow 
to  condemn ;  he  had  seen  their  side.  It  was  they  who  con 
demned  him.  He  must  have  justice  —  he  should  have  it ! 

"  I  believe  such  practices  are  not  necessary  now,"  he 
said  firmly.  "  A  new  generation  has  come  —  a  generation 
more  jealous  of  its  political  rights,  and  not  so  willing  to  be 
rid  of  them  by  farming  them  out.  A  change  has  taken 
place  even  in  the  older  men,  like  Mr.  Jenney  and  Mr. 
Redbrook,  who  simply  did  not  think  about  these  questions 
ten  years  ago.  Men  of  this  type,  who  could  be  leaders, 
are  ready  to  assume  their  responsibilities,  are  ready 
to  deal  fairly  with  railroads  and  citizens  alike.  This 
is  a  matter  of  belief.  I  believe  it  —  Mr.  Flint  and  my 
father  do  not.  They  see  the  politicians,  and  I  see  the 
people.  I  belong  to  one  generation,  and  they  to  another. 
With  the  convictions  they  have,  added  to  the  fact  that 
they  are  in  a  position  of  heavy  responsibility  toward  the 
owners  of  their  property,  they  cannot  be  blamed  for  hesi 
tating  to  try  any  experiments." 

"And  the  practices  are — bad?"  Victoria  asked. 

"They  are  entirely  subversive  of  the  principles  of  Amer 
ican  government,  to  say  the  least,"  replied  Austen,  grimly. 
He  was  thinking  of  the  pass  which  Mr.  Flint  had  sent 
him,  and  of  the  kind  of  men  Mr.  Flint  employed  to  make 
the  practices  effective. 

They  descended  into  the  darkness  of  a  deep  valley, 
scored  out  between  the  hills  by  one  of  the  rushing  tribu- 


330  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

taries  of  the  Blue.  The  moon  fell  down  behind  the  oppo 
site  ridge,  and  the  road  ran  through  a  deep  forest.  He  no 
longer  saw  the  shades  of  meaning  in  her  face,  but  in  the 
blackness  of  Erebus  he  could  have  sensed  her  presence  at 
his  side.  Speech,  though  of  this  strange  kind  of  which 
neither  felt  the  strangeness,  had  come  and  gone  between 
them,  and  now  silence  spoke  as  eloquently.  Twice  or 
thrice  their  eyes  met  through  the  gloom,  and  there  was 
light.  At  length  she  spoke  with  the  impulsiveness  in  her 
voice  that  he  found  so  appealing. 

"  You  must  see  my  father  —  you  must  talk  to  him.  He 
doesn't  know  how  fair  you  are !  " 

To  Austen  the  inference  was  obvious  that  Mr.  Flint  had 
conceived  for  him  a  special  animosity,  which  he  must  have 
mentioned  to  Victoria,  and  this  inference  opened  the  way 
to  a  wide  speculation  in  which  he  was  at  once  elated  and 
depressed.  Why  had  he  been  so  singled  out?  And  had 
Victoria  defended  him?  Once  before  he  remembered  that 
she  had  told  him  he  must  see  Mr.  Flint.  They  had  gained 
the  ridge  now,  and  the  moon  had  risen  again  for  them, 
striking  black  shadows  from  the  maples  on  the  granite- 
cropped  pastures.  A  little  farther  on  was  a  road  which 
might  have  been  called  the  rear  entrance  to  Fairview. 

What  was  he  to  say? 

"  I  am  afraid  Mr.  Flint  has  other  things  to  do  than  to 
see  me,"  he  answered.  "  If  he  wished  to  see  me,  he  would 
say  so." 

"  Would  you  go  to  see  him,  if  he  were  to  ask  you?"  said 
Victoria. 

"  Yes,"  he  replied,  "  but  that  is  not  likely  to  happen. 
Indeed,  you  are  giving  my  opinion  entirely  too  much  im 
portance  in  your  father's  eyes,"  he  added,  with  an  attempt 
to  carry  it  off  lightly;  "there  is  no  more  reason  why  he 
should  care  to  discuss  the  subject  with  me  than  with  any 
other  citizen  of  the  State  of  my  age  who  thinks  as  I  do." 

"  Oh,  yes,  there  is,"  said  Victoria  ;  "  he  regards  you  as  a 
person  whose  opinion  has  some  weight.  I  am  sure  of  that. 
He  thinks  of  you  as  a  person  of  convictions  —  and  he  has 
heard  things  about  you.  You  talked  to  him  once,"  she 


MR.   JABE  JENNEY  ENTERTAINS  331 

went  on,  astonished  at  her  own  boldness,  "  and  made  him 
angry.  Why  don't  you  talk  to  him  again?"  she  cried, 
seeing  that  Austen  was  silent.  "  I  am  sure  that  what  you 
said  about  the  change  of  public  opinion  in  the  State  would 
appeal  to  him.  And  oh,  don't  quarrel  with  him !  You 
have  a  faculty  of  differing  with  people  without  quarrelling 
with  them.  My  father  has  so  many  cares,  and  he  tries  so 
hard  to  do  right  as  he  sees  it.  You  must  remember  that 
he  was  a  poor  farmer's  son,  and  that  he  began  to  work  at 
fourteen  in  Brampton,  running  errands  for  a  country 
printer.  He  never  had  any  advantages  except  those  he 
made  for  himself,  and  he  had  to  fight  his  way  in  a  hard 
school  against  men  who  were  not  always  honourable.  It 
is  no  wonder  that  he  sometimes  takes  —  a  material  view  of 
things.  But  he  is  reasonable  and  willing  to  listen  to  what 
other  men  have  to  say,  if  he  is  not  antagonized." 

"  I  understand,"  said  Austen,  who  thought  Mr.  Flint  blest 
in  his  advocate.  Indeed,  Victoria's  simple  reference  to  her 
father's  origin  had  touched  him  deeply.  "  I  understand, 
but  I  cannot  go  to  him.  There  is  every  reason  why  I 
cannot,"  he  added,  and  she  knew  that  he  was  speaking 
with  difficulty,  as  under  great  emotion. 

"  But  if  he  should  send  for  you  ?  "  she  asked.  She  felt 
his  look  fixed  upon  her  with  a  strange  intensity,  and  her 
heart  leaped  as  she  dropped  her  eyes. 

"  If  Mr.  Flint  should  send  for  me,"  he  answered  slowly, 
"  I  would  come  —  and  gladly.  But  it  must  be  of  his  own 
free  will." 

Victoria  repeated  the  words  over  to  herself,  "  It  must  be 
of  his  own  free  will,"  waiting  until  she  should  be  alone  to 
seek  their  full  interpretation.  She  turned,  and  looked 
across  the  lawn  at  Fairview  House  shining  in  the  light. 
In  another  minute  they  had  drawn  up  before  the  open  door. 

"  Won't  you  come  in  —  and  wait  for  Mr.  Jenney?  "  she 
asked. 

He  gazed  down  into  her  face,  searchingly,  and  took  her 
hand. 

"  Good  night,"  he  said;  "Mr.  Jenney  is  not  far  behind. 
I  think  —  I  think  I  should  like  the  walk." 


CHAPTER  XX 

ME.   CREWE  :     AN  APPRECIATION  * 

IT  is  given  to  some  rare  mortals  with  whom  fame  pre 
cedes  grey  hairs  or  baldness  to  read,  while  still  on  the 
rising  tide  of  their  efforts,  that  portion  of  their  lives  which 
has  already  been  inscribed  on  the  scroll  of  history  —  or 
something  like  it.  Mr.  Crewe  in  kilts  at  five;  and  (pro 
phetic  picture!)  with  a  train  of  cars  which  —  so  the  family 
tradition  runs  —  was  afterwards  demolished;  Mr.  Crewe 
at  fourteen,  in  delicate  health;  this  picture  was  taken 
abroad,  with  a  long-suffering  tutor  who  could  speak  feel 
ingly,  if  he  would,  of  embryo  geniuses.  Even  at  this  early 
period  Humphrey  Crewe's  thirst  for  knowledge  was  insa 
tiable:  he  cared  little,  the  biography  tells  us,  for  galleries 
and  churches  and  ruins,  but  his  comments  upon  foreign 
methods  of  doing  business  were  astonishingly  precocious. 
He  recommended  to  amazed  clerks  in  provincial  banks  the 
use  of  cheques,  ridiculed  to  speechless  station-masters  the 
side-entrance  railway  carriage  with  its  want  of  room,  and 
the  size  of  the  goods  trucks.  He  is  said  to  have  been  the 
first  to  suggest  that  soda-water  fountains  might  be  run 
at  a  large  profit  in  London. 

In  college,  in  addition  to  keeping  up  his  classical 
courses,  he  found  time  to  make  an  exhaustive  study  of 
the  railroads  of  the  United  States,  embodying  these  ideas 
in  a  pamphlet  published  shortly  after  graduation.  This 
pamphlet  is  now,  unfortunately,  very  rare,  but  the  anony 
mous  biographer  managed  to  get  one  and  quote  from  it. 
If  Mr.  Crewe's  suggestions  had  been  carried  out,  seventy- 
five  per  cent  of  the  railroad  accidents  might  have  been 

1  Paul  Pardriff,  Ripton.  Sent  post  free,  on  application,  to  voters  and 
others. 

332 


MR.   CREWE:  AN  APPRECIATION  333 

eliminated.  Thorough  was  his  watchword  even  then. 
And  even  at  that  period  he  foresaw,  with  the  prophecy  of 
genius,  the  days  of  single-track  congestion. 

His  efforts  to  improve  Leith  and  the  State  in  general, 
to  ameliorate  the  condition  of  his  neighbours,  were 
fittingly  and  delicately  dwelt  upon.  A  desire  to  take 
upon  himself  the  burden  of  citizenship  led  —  as  we  know 

—  to  further  self-denial.     He  felt  called  upon  to  go  to 
the  Legislature  —  and  this  is  what  he  saw:  — 

(Mr.    Crewe    is    quoted    here    at    length    in    an    ad 
mirable,  concise,  and  hair-raising  statement  given  in  an 
interview  to   his    biographer.     But  we   have    been  with 
him,  and  know  what  he  saw.     It  is,  for  lack  of    space,' 
reluctantly  omitted.) 

And  now  we  are  to  take  up  Mr.  Crewe's  career  where 
the  biography  left  off ;  to  relate,  in  a  chapter  if  possible, 
one  of  the  most  remarkable  campaigns  in  the  history  of 
this  country.  A  certain  reformer  of  whose  acquaintance 
the  honest  chronicler  boasts  (a  reformer  who  got  elected  !) 
found,  on  his  first  visit  to  the  headquarters  he  had  hired 

—  two  citizens  under  the  influence  of  liquor  and  a  little 
girl  with  a  skip  rope.     Such  are  the  beginnings  that  try 
men's  souls. 

The  window  of  every  independent  shopkeeper  in  Ripton 
contained  a  large-sized  picture  of  the  Leith  statesman,  his 
determined  chin  slightly  thrust  down  into  the  Gladstone 
collar.  Underneath  were  the  words,  "  I  will  put  an  end 
to  graft  and  railroad  rule.  I  am  a  Candidate  of  the  People. 
Opening  rally  of  the  People's  Campaign  at  the  Opera  House, 
at  8  P.M.,  July  IQth.  The  Hon.  Humphrey  Crewe,  of 
Leith,  will  tell  the  citizens  of  Ripton  how  their  State  is  gov 
erned." 

"  Father,"  said  Victoria,  as  she  read  this  announcement 
(three  columns  wide,  in  the  Ripton  Record)  as  they  sat  at 
breakfast  together,  "  do  you  mind  my  going  ?  I  can  get 
Hastings  Weare  to  take  me." 

"  Not  at  all,"  said  Mr.  Flint,  who  had  returned  from 
New  York  in  a  better  frame  of  mind.  "  I  should  like  a 
trustworthy  account  of  that  meeting.  Only,"  he  added, 


334  MR.   CREWE'S  CAREER 

"  I  should  advise  you  to  go  early,  Victoria,  in  order  to  get 
a  seat." 

"  You  don't  object  to  my  listening  to  criticism  of  you  ?  " 

"  Not  by  Humphrey  Crewe,"  laughed  Mr.  Flint. 

Early  suppers  instead  of  dinners  were  the  rule  at  Leith 
on  the  evening  of  the  historic  day,  and  the  candidate 
himself,  in  his  red  Leviathan,  was  not  inconsiderably 
annoyed,  on  the  way  to  Ripton,  by  innumerable  carryalls 
and  traps  filled  with  brightly  gowned  recruits  of  that 
organization  of  Mrs.  Pomfret's  which  Beatrice  Chilling- 
ham  had  nicknamed  "The  Ladies'  Auxiliary."  In  vain 
Mr.  Crewe  tooted  his  horn :  the  sound  of  it  was  drowned 
by  the  gay  talk  and  laughter  in  the  carryalls,  and  shrieks 
ensued  when  the  Leviathan  cut  by  with  only  six  inches  to 
spare,  and  the  candidate  turned  and  addressed  the  drivers 
in  language  more  forceful  than  polite,  and  told  the  ladies 
they  acted  as  if  they  were  going  to  a  Punch-and-Judy 
show. 

"  Poor  dear  Humphrey  !  "  said  Mrs.  Pomfret,  "  is  so 
much  in  earnest.  I  wouldn't  give  a  snap  for  a  man 
without  a  temper." 

"  Poor  dear  Humphrey !  "  said  Beatrice  Chillingham,  in 
an  undertone  to  her  neighbour,  "  is  exceedingly  rude  and 
ungrateful.  That's  what  I  think." 

The  occupants  of  one  vehicle  heard  the  horn,  and 
sought  the  top  of  a  grassy  mound  to  let  the  Leviathan  go 
by.  And  the  Leviathan,  with  characteristic  contrariness, 
stopped. 

"  Hello,"  said  Mr.  Crewe,  with  a  pull  at  his  cap.  "  I 
intended  to  be  on  the  lookout  for  you." 

"  That  is  very  thoughtful,  Humphrey,  considering  how 
many  things  you  have  to  be  on  the  lookout  for  this 
evening,"  Victoria  replied. 

"  That's  all  right,"  was  Mr.  Crewe's  gracious  reply. 
"  I  knew  }rou'd  be  sufficiently  broad-minded  to  come,  and 
I  hope  you  won't  take  offence  at  certain  remarks  I  think 
it  my  duty  to  make." 

"Don't  let  my  presence  affect  you,"  she  answered, 
smiling;  "I  have  come  prepared  for  anything." 


MR.   CREWE:   AN   APPRECIATION  335 

"  I'll  tell  Tooting  to  give  you  a  good  seat,"  he  called 
back,  as  he  started  onward. 

Hastings  Weare  looked  up  at  her,  with  laughter-brim 
ming  eyes. 

"Victoria,  you're  a  wonder!"  he  remarked.  "Say,  do 
you  remember  that  tall  fellow  we  met  at  Humphrey's 
party,  Austen  Vane  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  I  saw  him  on  the  street  in  Ripton  the  other  day,  and 
he  came  right  up  and  spoke  to  me.  He  hadn't  forgotten 
my  name.  Now,  he'd  be  my  notion  of  a  candidate.  He 
makes  you  feel  as  if  your  presence  in  the  world  meant 
something  to  him." 

"  I  think  he  does  feel  that  way,"  replied  Victoria. 

"I  don't  blame  him  if  he  feels  that  way  about  you," 
said  Hastings,  who  made  love  openly. 

"  Hastings,"  she  answered,  "  when  you  get  a  little  older, 
you  will  learn  to  confine  yourself  to  your  own  opinions." 

"When  I  do,"  he  retorted  audaciously,  "they  never 
make  you  blush  like  that." 

"  It's  probably  because  you  have  never  learned  to  be 
original,"  she  replied.  But  Hastings  had  been  set  to 
thinking. 

Mrs.  Pomfret,  with  her  foresight  and  her  talent  for 
management,  had  given  the  Ladies'  Auxiliary  notice  that 
they  were  not  to  go  farther  forward  than  the  twelfth  row. 
She  herself,  with  some  especially  favoured  ones,  occupied 
a  box,  which  was  the  nearest  thing  to  being  on  the  stage. 
One  unforeseen  result  of  Mrs.  Pomfret's  arrangement 
was  that  the  first  eleven  rows  were  vacant,  with  the 
exception  of  one  old  man  and  five  or  six  schoolboys. 
Such  is  the  courage  of  humanity  in  general !  On  the 
arrival  of  the  candidate,  instead  of  a  surging  crowd  lin 
ing  the  sidewalk,  he  found  only  a  fringe  of  the  curious, 
whose  usual  post  of  observation  was  the  railroad  station, 
standing  silently  on  the  curb.  Within,  Mr.  Tooting's 
duties  as  an  usher  had  not  been  onerous.  He  met  Mr. 
Ore  we  in  the%  vestibule,  and  drew  him  into  the  private 
office. 


336  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

44  The  railroad's  fixed  'em,"  said  the  manager,  indig 
nantly,  but  sotto  voce  ;  "  I've  found  that  out.  Hilary  Vane 
had  the  word  passed  around  town  that  if  they  came,  some- 
thin'  would  fall  on  'em.  The  Tredways  and  all  the  people 
who  own  factories  served  notice  on  their  men  that  if  they 
paid  any  attention  to  this  meeting  they'd  lose  their  job. 
But  say,  the  people  are  watchin'  you,  just  the  same." 

"  How  many  people  are  in  there  ? "  Mr.  Crewe  de 
manded. 

"  Twenty-seven,  when  I  came  out,"  said  Mr.  Tooting, 
with  commendable  accuracy.  "  But  it  wants  fifteen  min 
utes  to  eight." 

"  And  who,"  asked  Mr.  Crewe,  "  is  to  introduce  me  ?  " 

An  expression  of  indignation  spread  over  Mr.  Tooting's 
face. 

44  There  ain't  a  man  in  Ripton's  got  sand  enough  !  "  he 
exclaimed.  44  Sol  Gridley  was  a-goin'  to,  but  he  went  to 
New  York  on  the  noon  train.  I  guess  it's  a  pleasure 
trip,"  Mr.  Tooting  hinted  darkly. 

44  Why,"  said  Mr.  Crewe,  44  he's  the  fellow  —  " 

44  Exactly,"  Mr.  Tooting  replied,  44  and  he  did  get  a  lot 
of  'em,  travelling  about.  But  Sol  has  got  to  work  on  the 
quiet,  you  understand.  He  feels  he  can't  come  out  right 
away." 

44  And  how  about  Amos  Ricketts  ?     Where's  he  ?  " 

44  Amos,"  said  Mr.  Tooting,  regretfully,  44  was  taken 
very  sudden  about  five  o'clock.  One  of  his  spells  come 
on,  and  he  sent  me  word  to  the  Ripton  House.  He  had 
his  speech  all  made  up,  and  it  was  a  good  one,  too.  He 
was  going  to  tell  folks  pretty  straight  how  the  railroad 
beat  him  for  mayor." 

Mr.  Crewe  made  a  gesture  of  disgust. 

44  I'll  introduce  myself,"  he  said.  44  They  all  know  me, 
anyhow." 

44  Say,"  said  Mr.  Tooting,  laying  a  hand  on  his  candi 
date's  arm.  44  You  couldn't  do  any  better.  I've  been  for 
that  all  along." 

44  Hold  on,"  said  Mr.  Crewe,  listening,  "  a  lot  of  people 
are  coming  in  now." 


MR.   CREWE:  AN  APPRECIATION  337 

What  Mr.  Ore  we  had  heard,  however,  was  the  arrival 
of  the  Ladies'  Auxiliary,  five  and  thirty  strong,  from 
Leith.  But  stay  !  Who  are  these  coming  ?  More  ladies 
—  ladies  in  groups  of  two  and  three  and  five !  ladies  of 
Ripton  whose  husbands,  for  some  unexplained  reason, 
have  stayed  at  home;  and  Mr.  Tooting,  as  he  watched 
them  with  mingled  feelings,  became  a  woman's  suffragist 
on  the  spot.  He  dived  into  the  private  office  once  more, 
where  he  found  Mr.  Crewe  seated  with  his  legs  crossed, 
calmly  reading  a  last  winter's  playbill.  (Note  for  a  more 
complete  biography.) 

"  Well,  Tooting,"  he  said,  "  I  thought  they'd  begin  to 
come." 

"  They're  mostly  women,"  Mr.  Tooting  informed  him. 

"  Women !  " 

"  Hold  on  !  "  said  Mr.  Tooting,  who  had  the  true  show 
man's  instinct.  "  Can't  you  see  that  folks  are  curious  ? 
They're  afraid  to  come  'emselves,  and  they're  sendin' 
their  wives  and  daughters.  If  you  get  the  women  to 
night,  they'll  go  home  and  club  the  men  into  line." 

Eight  strokes  boomed  out  from  the  tower  of  the  neigh 
bouring  town  hall,  and  an  expectant  flutter  spread  over 
the  audience,  —  a  flutter  which  disseminated  faint  odours 
of  sachet  and  other  mysterious  substances  in  which  femi 
nine  apparel  is  said  to  be  laid  away.  The  stage  was 
empty,  save  for  a  table  which  held  a  pitcher  of  water  and 
a  glass. 

"  It's  a  pretty  good  imitation  of  a  matine*e,"  Hastings 
Weare  remarked.  "  I  wonder  whom  the  front  seats  are 
reserved  for.  Say,  Victoria,  there's  your  friend  Mr.  Vane 
in  the  corner.  He's  looking  over  here." 

"  He  has  a  perfect  right  to  look  where  he  chooses,"  said 
Victoria.  She  wondered  whether  he  would  come  over  and 
sit  next  to  her  if  she  turned  around,  and  decided  instantly 
that  he  wouldn't.  Presently,  when  she  thought  Hastings 
was  off  his  guard,  she  did  turn,  to  meet,  as  she  expected, 
Austen's  glance  fixed  upon  her.  Their  greeting  was  the 
signal  of  two  people  with  a  mutual  understanding.  He 
did  not  rise,  and  although  she  acknowledged  to  herself  a 


338  MR.   CREWE'S  CAREER 

feeling  of  disappointment,  she  gave  him  credit  for  a  nice 
comprehension  of  the  situation.  Beside  him  was  his  friend 
Tom  Gaylord,  who  presented  to  her  a  very  puzzled  face. 
And  then,  if  there  had  been  a  band,  it  would  have  been 
time  to  play  "  See,  the  Conquering  Hero  Comes!  " 

Why  wasn't  there  a  band?  No  such  mistake,  Mr. 
Tooting  vowed,  should  be  made  at  the  next  rally. 

It  was  Mrs.  Pom  fret  who  led  the  applause  from  her 
box  as  the  candidate  walked  modestly  up  the  side  aisle 
and  presently  appeared,  alone,  on  the  stage.  The  flutter 
of  excitement  was  renewed,  and  this  time  it  might  almost 
be  called  a  flutter  of  apprehension.  But  we  who  have 
heard  Mr.  Crewe  speak  are  in  no  alarm  for  our  candidate. 
He  takes  a  glass  of  iced  water;  he  arranges,  with  the  utmost 
sang-froid,  his  notes  on  the  desk  and  adjusts  the  reading- 
light.  Then  he  steps  forward  and  surveys  the  scattered 
groups. 

" Ladies  —  "a  titter  ran  through  the  audience,  —  a 
titter  which  started  somewhere  in  the  near  neighbourhood 
of  Mr.  Hastings  Weare  —  and  rose  instantly  to  several 
hysterical  peals  of  feminine  laughter.  Mrs.  Pomfret, 
outraged,  sweeps  the  frivolous  offenders  with  her  lorgnette; 
Mr.  Crewe,  with  his  arm  resting  on  the  reading-desk, 
merely  raises  the  palm  of  his  hand  to  a  perpendicular  re- 1 
proof,  " — and  gentlemen."  At  this  point  the  audience 
is  thoroughly  cowed.  "  Ladies  and  gentlemen  and  fellow- 
citizens.  I  thank  you  for  the  honour  you  have  done  me  I 
in  coming  here  to  listen  to  the  opening  speech  of  my  cam- ' 
paign  to-night.  It  is  a  campaign  for  decency  and  good 
government,  and  I  know  that  the  common  people  of  the 
State  —  of  whom  I  have  the  honour  to  be  one  —  demand 
these  things.  I  cannot  say  as  much  for  the  so-called  promi 
nent  citizens,"  said  Mr.  Crewe,  glancing  about  him;  "  not 
one  of  your  prominent  citizens  in  Ripton  would  venture 
to  offend  the  powers  that  be  by  consenting  to  introduce 
me  to-night,  or  dared  come  into  this  theatre  and  take  seats 
within  thirty  feet  of  this  platform."  Here  Mr.  Crewe 
let  his  eyes  rest  significantly  on  the  eleven  empty  rows, 
while  his  hearers  squirmed  in  terrified  silence  at  this 


MR.   CREWE:   AN   APPRECIATION  339 

audacity.  Even  the  Ripton  women  knew  that  this  was 
ligh  treason  beneath  the  walls  of  the  citadel,  and  many  of 
them  glanced  furtively  at  the  strangely  composed  daughter 
>f  Augustus  P.  Flint. 

"  I  will  show  you  that  I  can  stand  on  my  own  feet,"  Mr. 

rewe   continued.       "  I   will    introduce   myself.       I   am 

lumphrey  Crewe  of  Leith,  and  I  claim   to   have  added 

something  to  the  welfare  and  prosperity  of  this  State,  and 

intend  to  add  more  before  I  have  finished." 

At  this  point,  as  might  have  been  expected,  spontaneous 
ipplause  broke  forth,  originating  in  the  right-hand  stage 
>ox.  Here  was  a  daring  defiance  indeed,  a  courage  of 
such  a  high  order  that  it  completely  carried  away  the 
adies  and  drew  reluctant  plaudits  from  the  male  element. 
4  Give  it  to  'em,  Humphrey  !  "  said  one  of  those  who 
lappened  to  be  sitting  next  to  Miss  Flint,  and  who 
received  a  very  severe  pinch  in  the  arm  in  consequence. 

"  I  thank  the  gentleman,"  answered  Mr.  Crewe,  "  and  I 
)ropose  to —  (Hand clapping  and  sachet.)  I  propose  to 
show  that  you  spend  something  like  two  hundred  thousand 
dollars  a  year  to  elect  legislators  and  send  'em  to  the  cap- 
tal,  when  the  real  government  of  your  State  is  in  a  room 
n  the  Pelican  Hotel  known  as  the  Railroad  Room,  and 
the  real  governor  is  a  citizen  of  your  town,  the  Honour 
able  Hilary  Vane,  who  sits  there  and  acts  for  his  master, 
Mr.  Augustus  P.  Flint  of  New  York.  And  I  propose  to 
Drove  to  you  that,  before  the  Honourable  Adam  B.  Hunt 
appeared  as  that  which  has  come  to  be  known  as  the 
regular '  candidate,  Mr.  Flint  sent  for  him  to  go  to  New 
York  and  exacted  certain  promises  from  him.  Not  that 
t  was  necessary,  but  the  Northeastern  Railroads  never 
;ake  any  chances.  (Laughter.*)  The  Honourable  Adam 
B.  Hunt  is  what  they  call  a  4  safe '  man,  meaning  by  that 
a  man  who  will  do  what  Mr.  Flint  wants  him  to  do. 
While  I  am  not  '  safe  '  because  I  have  dared  to  defy  them 
in  your  name,  and  will  do  what  the  people  want  me  to  do. 
(Clapping  and  cheers  from  a  gentleman  in  the  darkness, 
afterwards  identified  as  Mr.  Tooting.)  Now,  my  friends, 
are  you  going  to  continue  to  allow  a  citizen  of  New  York 


340  MR.   CREWE'S  CAREER 

to  nominate  your  governors,  and  do  you  intend,  tamely, 
to  give  the  Honourable  Adam  B.  Hunt  your  votes?  " 

"  They  ain't  got  any  votes,"  said  a  voice  —  not  that  of 
Mr.  Hastings  Weare,  for  it  came  from  the  depths  of  the 
gallery. 

" fc  The  hand  that  rocks  the  cradle  sways  the  world,'  " 
answered  Mr.  Crewe,  and  there  was  no  doubt  about  the 
sincerity  of  the  applause  this  time. 

"  The  campaign  of  the  Honourable  Humphrey  Crewe 
of  Leith,"  said  the  State  Tribune  next  day,  "  was  inaugu 
rated  at  the  Opera  House  in  Ripton  last  night  before  an 
enthusiastic  audience  consisting  of  Mr.  Austen  Vane,  Mr. 
Thomas  Gaylord,  Jr.,  Mr.  Hamilton  Tooting,  two  re 
porters,  and  seventy-four  ladies,  who  cheered  the  speaker 
to  the  echo.  About  half  of  these  ladies  were  summer 
residents  of  Leith  in  charge  of  the  well-known  social 
leader,  Mrs.  Patterson  Pomfret,  —  an  organized  league 
which,  it  is  understood,  will  follow  the  candidate  about 
the  State  in  the  English  fashion,  kissing  the  babies  and 
teaching  the  mothers  hygienic  cooking  and  how  to  onduler 
the  hair." 

After  speaking  for  an  hour  and  a  half,  the  Honourable 
Humphrey  Crewe  declared  that  he  would  be  glad  to  meet 
any  of  the  audience  who  wished  to  shake  his  hand,  and 
it  was  Mrs.  Pomfret  who  reached  him  first. 

"  Don't  be  discouraged,  Humphrey,  —  you  are  magnifi 
cent,"  she  whispered. 

"Discouraged!"  echoed  Mr.  Crewe.  "You  can't  kill 
an  idea,  and  we'll  see  who's  right  and  who's  wrong  before 
I  get  through  with  'em." 

"What  a  noble  spirit!  "  Mrs.  Pomfret  exclaimed  aside 
to  Mrs.  Chillingham.  Then  she  added,  in  a  louder  tone, 
"  Ladies,  if  you  will  kindly  tell  me  your  names,  I  shall  be 
happy  to  introduce  you  to  the  candidate.  Well,  Victoria, 
I  didn't  expect  to  see  you  here." 

"Why  not?"  said  Victoria.  "Humphrey,  accept  my 
congratulations. " 

"  Did  you  like  it  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Crewe.  "  I  thought  it 
was  a  pretty  good  speech  myself.  There's  nothing  like 


MR.   CREWE:  AN  APPRECIATION  341 

telling  the  truth,  you  know.  And,  by  the  way,  I  hope  to 
see  you  in  a  day  or  two,  before  I  start  for  Kingston. 
Telephone  me  when  you  come  down  to  Leith." 

The  congratulations  bestowed  on  the  candidate  by  the 
daughter  of  the  president  of  the  Northeastern  Railroads 
quite  took  the  breath  out  of  the  spectators  who  witnessed 
the  incident,  and  gave  rise  to  the  wildest  conjectures. 
And  the  admiration  of  Mr.  Hastings  Weare  was  un 
bounded. 

"You've  got  the  most  magnificent  nerve  I  ever  saw, 
Victoria,"  he  exclaimed,  as  they  made  their  way  towards 
the  door. 

"  You  forget  Humphrey,"  she  replied. 

Hastings  looked  at  her  and  chuckled.  In  fact,  he 
chuckled  all  the  way  home.  In  the  vestibule  they  met 
Mr.  Austen  Vane  and  Mr.  Thomas  Gaylord,  the  latter  com 
ing  forward  with  a  certain  palpable  embarrassment.  All 
through  the  evening  Tom  had  been  trying  to  account  for 
her  presence  at  the  meeting,  until  Austen  had  begged 
him  to  keep  his  speculations  to  himself.  "  She  can't  be 
engaged  to  him!'''  Mr.  Gaylord  had  exclaimed  more 
than  once,  under  his  breath.  "Why  not?"  Austen  had 
answered;  "there's  a  good  deal  about  him  to  admire." 
"  Because  she's  got  more  sense,"  said  Tom  doggedly. 
Hence  he  was  at  a  loss  for  words  when  she  greeted 
him. 

"  Well,  Mr.  Gaylord,"  she  said,  "  you  see  no  bones  were 
broken,  after  all.  But  I  appreciated  your  precaution  in 
sending  the  buggy  behind  me,  although  it  wasn't  neces 
sary." 

"  I  felt  somewhat  responsible,"  replied  Tom,  and  words 
failed  him.  "  Here's  Austen  Vane,"  he  added,  indicating 
by  a  nod  of  the  head  the  obvious  presence  of  that  gentle 
man.  "  You'll  excuse  me.  There's  a  man  here  I  want  to 
see." 

"What's  the  matter  with  Mr.  Gaylord?"  Victoria 
asked.  "He  seems  so  —  queer." 

They  were  standing  apart,  alone,  Hastings  Weare  having 
gone  to  the  stables  for  the  runabout. 


342  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

"  Mr.  Gaylord  imagines  he  doesn't  get  along  with  the 
opposite  sex,"  Austen  replied,  with  just  a  shade  of  con 
straint. 

"Nonsense!"  exclaimed  Victoria;  "we  got  along  per 
fectly  the  other  day  when  he  rescued  me  from  the  bushes. 
What's  the  matter  with  him?" 

Austen  laughed,  and  their  eyes  met. 

"  I  think  he  is  rather  surprised  to  see  you  here,"  he  said. 

"  And  you  ?"  returned  Victoria.  "Aren't  you  equally  — 
out  of  place?  " 

He  did  not  care  to  go  into  an  explanation  of  Tom's 
suspicion  in  regard  to  Mr.  Crewe. 

"  My  curiosity  was  too  much  for  me,"  he  replied,  smiling. 

"So  was  mine,"  she  replied,  and  suddenly  demanded: 
"  What  did  you  think  of  Humphrey's  speech  ?  " 

Their  eyes  met.  And  despite  the  attempted  seriousness 
of  her  tone  they  joined  in  an  irresistible  and  spontaneous 
laughter.  They  were  again  on  that  plane  of  mutual  under 
standing  and  intimacy  for  which  neither  could  account. 

"  I  have  no  criticism  to  make  of  Mr.  Crewe  as  an  ora 
tor,  at  least,"  he  said. 

Then  she  grew  serious  again,  and  regarded  him  stead 
fastly. 

"  And  —  what  he  said  ?  "  she  asked. 

Austen  wondered  again  at  the  courage  she  had  displayed. 
All  he  had  been  able  to  think  of  in  the  theatre,  while  lis 
tening  to  Mr.  Crewe's  words  of  denunciation  of  the  North 
eastern  Railroads,  had  been  of  the  effect  they  might  have 
on  Victoria's  feelings,  and  from  time  to  time  he  had 
glanced  anxiously  at  her  profile.  And  now,  looking  into 
her  face,  questioning,  trustful  —  he  could  not  even  attempt 
to  evade.  He  was  silent. 

"  I  shouldn't  have  asked  you  that,"  she  said.  "  One 
reason  I  came  was  because  —  because  I  wanted  to  hear  the 
worst.  You  were  too  considerate  to  tell  me  —  all." 

He  looked  mutely  into  her  eyes,  and  a  great  desire 
arose  in  him  to  be  able  to  carry  her  away  from  it  all. 
Many  times  within  the  past  year,  when  the  troubles  and 
complications  of  his  life  had  weighed  upon  him,  his 


MR.   CREWE:   AN   APPRECIATION  343 

thoughts  had  turned  to  that  Western  country,  limited 
nly  by  the  bright  horizons  where  the  sun  rose  and  set. 
[f  he  could  only  take  her  there,  or  into  his  own  hills, 
where  no  man  might  follow  them !  It  was  a  primeval 
onging,  and,  being  a  woman  and  the  object  of  it,  she  saw 
ts  essential  meaning  in  his  face.  For  a  brief  moment 
bhey  stood  as  completely  alone  as  on  the  crest  of  Sawanec. 

"  Good  night,"  she  said,  in  a  low  voice. 

He  did  not  trust  himself  to  speak  at  once,  but  went 
lown  the  steps  with  her  to  the  curb,  where  Hastings 
VVeare  was  waiting  in  the  runabout. 

"  I  was  just  telling  Miss  Flint,"  said  that  young  gentle- 
nan,  "that  you  would  have  been  my  candidate." 

Austen's  face  relaxed. 

" Thank  you,  Mr.  Weare,"  he  said  simply;  and  to  Vic 
toria,  "Good  night." 

At  the  corner,  when  she  turned,  she  saw  him  still  stand- 
.ng  on  the  edge  of  the  sidewalk,  his  tall  figure  thrown  into 
3old  relief  by  the  light  which  flooded  from  the  entrance. 

The  account  of  the  Ripton  meeting,  substantially  as  it 
appeared  in  the  State  Tribune,  was  by  a  singular  coinci 
dence  copied  at  once  into  sixty-odd  weekly  newspapers, 
and  must  have  caused  endless  merriment  throughout  the 
State.  Congressman  Fairplay's  prophecy  of  "  negligible  " 
was  an  exaggeration,  and  one  gentleman  who  had  rashly 
predicted  that  Mr.  Crewe  would  get  twenty  delegates  out 
of  a  thousand  hid  himself  for  shame.  On  the  whole, 
the  "  monumental  farce "  forecast  seemed  best  to  fit 
he  situation.  A  conference  was  held  at  Leith  be 
tween  the  candidate,  Mr.  Tooting,  and  the  Honourable 
Timothy  Watling  of  Newcastle,  who  was  preparing  the 
nominating  speech,  although  the  convention  was  more 
than  two  months  distant.  Mr.  Watling  was  skilled  in 
rounded  periods  of  oratory  and  in  other  things  political, 
and  both  he  and  Mr.  Tooting  reiterated  their  opinion 
jthat  there  was  no  particle  of  doubt  about  Mr.  Crewe's 
^nomination. 

"  But  we'll  have  to  fight  fire  with  fire,"  Mr.  Tooting 
jdeclared.  It  was  probably  an  accident  that  he  happened 


344  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

to  kick,  at  this  instant,  Mr.  Watling  under  cover  of  the 
table.  Mr.  Watling  was  an  old  and  valued  friend. 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  Mr.  Crewe,  "  I  haven't  the  slightest 
doubt  of  my  nomination,  either.  I  do  not  hesitate  to  say, 
however,  that  the  expenses  of  this  campaign,  at  this  early 
stage,  seem  to  me  out  of  all  proportion.  Let  me  see  what 
you  have  there." 

The  Honourable  Timothy  Watling  had  produced  a 
typewritten  list  containing  some  eighty  towns  and  wards, 
each  followed  by  a  name  and  the  number  of  the  delegates 
therefrom  —  and  figures. 

"  They'd  all  be  enthusiastic  Crewe  men  —  if  they  could 
be  seen  by  the  right  party,"  declared  Mr.  Tooting. 

Mr.  Crewe  ran  his  eye  over  the  list. 

"  Whom  would  you  suggest  to  see  'em  ?  "  he  asked  coldly. 

"  There's  only  one  party  I  know  of  that  has  much  in 
fluence  over  'em,"  Mr.  Tooting  replied,  with  a  genial  but 
deferential  indication  of  his  friend. 

At  this  point  Mr.  Crewe's  secretary  left  the  room  on 
an  errand,  and  the  three  statesmen  went  into  executive 
session.  In  politics,  as  in  charity,  it  is  a  good  rule  not 
to  let  one's  right  hand  know  what  the  left  hand  doeth. 
Half  an  hour  later  the  three  emerged  into  the  sunlight, 
Mr.  Tooting  and  Mr.  Watling  smoking  large  cigars. 

"  You've  got  a  great  lay-out  here,  Mr.  Crewe,"  Mr.  Wat- 
ling  remarked.  "It  must  have  stood  you  in  a  little 
money,  eh?  Yes,  I'll  get  mileage  books,  and  you'll  hear 
from  me  every  day  or  two." 

And  now  we  are  come  to  the  infinitely  difficult  task  of 
relating  in  a  whirlwind  manner  the  story  of  a  whirlwind 
campaign  —  a  campaign  that  was  to  make  the  oldest  resi 
dent  sit  up  and  take  notice.  In  the  space  of  four  short 
weeks  a  miracle  had  begun  to  show  itself.  First,  there 
was  the  Kingston  meeting,  with  the  candidate,  his  thumb 
in  his  wratch-pocket,  seated  in  an  open  carriage  beside 
Mr.  Hamilton  Tooting, — a  carriage  draped  with  a  sheet 
on  which  was  painted  "  Down  with  Railroad  Ring  Rule  !  " 
The  carriage  was  preceded  by  the  Kingston  Brass  Band, 
producing  throbbing  martial  melodies,  and  followed  (we 


MR.   CREWE:   AN   APPRECIATION  345 

are  not  going  to  believe  the  State  Tribune  any  longer)  by 
a  jostling  and  cheering  crowd.  The  band  halts  before 
the  G.  A.  R.  Hall;  the  candidate  alights,  with  a  bow  of 
acknowledgment,  and  goes  to  the  private  office  until  the 
musicians  are  seated  in  front  of  the  platform,  when  he 
enters  to  renewed  cheering  and  the  tune  of  "  See,  the 
Conquering  Hero  Comes  !  " 

An  honest  historian  must  admit  that  there  were  two 
accounts  of  this  meeting.  Both  agree  that  Mr.  Crewe 
introduced  himself,  and  poured  a  withering  sarcasm  on 
the  heads  of  Kingston's  prominent  citizens.  One  ac 
count,  which  the  ill-natured  declared  to  be  in  Mr.  Toot- 
ing's  style,  and  which  appeared  (in  slightly  larger  type 
than  that  of  the  other  columns)  in  the  Kingston  and 
local  papers,  stated  that  the  hall  was  crowded  to  suffoca 
tion,  and  that  the  candidate  was  "accorded  an  ovation 
which  lasted  for  fully  five  minutes." 

Mr.  Crewe's  speech  was  printed  —  in  this  slightly  larger 
type.  Woe  to  the  Honourable  Adam  B.  Hunt,  who  had 
gone  to  New  York  to  see  whether  he  could  be  governor  ! 
Why  didn't  he  come  out  on  the  platform  ?  Because  he 
couldn't.  "Safe"  candidates  couldn't  talk.  His  sub 
servient  and  fawning  reports  on  accidents  while  chair 
man  of  the  Railroad  Commission  were  ruthlessly  quoted 
(amid  cheers  and  laughter*).  What  kind  of  railroad  ser 
vice  was  Kingston  getting  compared  to  what  it  should 
have  ?  Compared,  indeed,  to  what  it  had  twenty  years 
ago?  An  informal  reception  was  held  afterwards. 

More  meetings  followed,  at  the  rate  of  four  a  week,  in 
county  after  county.  At  the  end  of  fifteen  days  a  select 
man  (whose  name  will  go  down  in  history)  voluntarily 
mounted  the  platform  and  introduced  the  Honourable 
Humphrey  Crewe  to  the  audience  ;  not,  to  be  sure,  as 
the  saviour  of  the  State  ;  and  from  that  day  onward  Mr. 
Crewe  did  not  lack  for  a  sponsor.  On  the  other  hand, 
the  sponsors  became  more  pronounced,  and  at  Harwich  (a 
free-thinking  district)  a  whole  board  of  selectmen  and 
five  prominent  citizens  sat  gravely  beside  the  candidate  in 
the  town  hall. 


CHAPTER  XXI 


ST.    GILES   OF   THE   BLAMELESS   LIFE 

THE  burden  of  the  valley  of  vision  :  woe  to  the  Honour 
able  Adam  B.  Hunt!  Where  is  he  all  this  time?  On 
the  porch  of  his  home  in  Edmundton,  smoking  cigars, 
little  heeding  the  rising  of  the  waters;  receiving  visits 
from  the  Honourables  Brush  Bascom,  Nat  Billings,  and 
Jacob  Botcher,  and  signing  cheques  to  the  order  of  these 
gentlemen  for  necessary  expenses.  Be  it  known  that  the 
Honourable  Adam  was  a  man  of  substance  in  this  world's 
goods.  To  quote  from  Mr.  Crewe's  speech  at  Hull : 
"  The  Northeastern  Railroads  confer  —  they  do  not  pay, 
except  in  passes.  Of  late  years  their  books  may  be 
searched  in  vain  for  evidence  of  the  use  of  political 
funds.  The  man  upon  whom  they  choose  to  confer  your 
governorship  is  always  able  to  pay  the  pipers."  (Pur 
posely  put  in  the  plural.) 

Have  the  pipers  warned  the  Honourable  Adam  of  the 
rising  tide  against  him?  Have  they  asked  him  to  gird 
up  his  loins  and  hire  halls  and  smite  the  upstart  hip  and 
thigh  ?  They  have  warned  him,  yes,  that  the  expenses 
may  be  a  little  greater  than  ordinary.  But  it  is  not  for 
him  to  talk,  or  to  bestir  himself  in  any  unseemly  manner, 
for  the  prize  which  he  was  to  have  was  in  the  nature  of  a 
gift.  In  vain  did  Mr.  Ore  we  cry  out  to  him  four  times 
a  week  for  his  political  beliefs,  for  a  statement  of  what 
he  would  do  if  he  were  elected  governor.  The  Honour 
able  Adam's  dignified  answer  was  that  he  had  always 
been  a  good  Republican,  and  would  die  one.  Following 
a  time-honoured  custom,  he  refused  to  say  anything,  but 
it  was  rumoured  that  he  believed  in  the  gold  standard. 

348 


ST.   GILES   OF  THE   BLAMELESS   LIFE         347 

It  is  August,  and  there  is  rejoicing  in  Leith.  There 
is  no  doubt  now  that  the  campaign  of  the  people  pro 
gresses  ;  no  need  any  more  for  the  true  accounts  of  the 
meetings,  in  large  print,  although  these  are  still  continued. 
The  reform  rallies  resemble  matinees  no  longer,  and  two 
real  reporters  accompany  Mr.  Crewe  on  his  tours.  Nay, 
the  campaign  of  education  has  already  borne  fruit,  which 
the  candidate  did  not  hesitate  to  mention  in  his  talks  : 
Edmundton  has  more  trains,  Kingston  has  more  trains, 
nd  more  cars.  No  need  now  to  stand  up  for  twenty 
miles  on  a  hot  day ;  and  more  cars  are  building,  and  more 
engines;  likewise  some  rates  have  been  lowered.  And 
editors  who  declare  that  the  Northeastern  gives  the  State 
a  pretty  good  government  have,  like  the  guinea  pigs,  long 
been  suppressed. 

In  these  days  were  many  councils  at  Fair  view  and  in 
the  offices  of  the  Honourable  Hilary  Vane  at  Ripton  ; 
councils  behind  closed  doors,  from  which  the  councillors 
emerged  with  smiling  faces  that  men  might  not  know  the 
misgivings  in  their  hearts  ;  councils,  nevertheless,  out  of 
which  leaked  rumours  of  dissension  and  recrimination  — 
conditions  hitherto  unheard  of.  One  post  ran  to  meet 
another,  and  one  messenger  ran  to  meet  another ;  and  it 
was  even  reported  —  though  on  doubtful  authority  —  after 
the  rally  in  his  town  the  Honourable  Jacob  Botcher  had 
made  the  remark  that,  under  certain  conditions,  he  might 
become  a  reformer. 

None  of  these  upsetting  rumours,  however,  were  allowed 
by  Mr.  Bascom  and  other  gentlemen  close  to  the  Honour 
able  Adam  B.  Hunt  to  reach  that  candidate,  who  contin 
ued  to  smoke  in  tranquillity  on  the  porch  of  his  home 
until  the  fifteenth  day  of  August.  At  eight  o'clock  that 
morning  the  postman  brought  him  a  letter  marked  per 
sonal,  the  handwriting  on  which  he  recognized  as  belong 
ing  to  the  Honourable  Hilary  Vane.  For  some  reason,  as 
he  read,  the  sensations  of  the  Honourable  Adam  were 
disquieting ;  the  contents  of  the  letter,  to  say  the  least, 
were  peculiar.  "  To-morrow,  at  noon  precisely,  I  shall 
be  driving  along  the  Broad  Brook  road  by  the  abandoned 


348  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

mill  three  miles  towards  Edmundton  from  Hull.  I  hope 
you  will  find  it  convenient  to  be  there." 

These  were  the  strange  words  the  Honourable  Hilary 
had  written,  and  the  Honourable  Adam  knew  that  it  was 
an  order.  At  that  very  instant  Mr.  Hunt  had  been  read 
ing  in  the  Guardian  the  account  of  an  overflow  meeting 
in  Newcastle  by  his  opponent,  in  which  Mr.  Crewe  had 
made  some  particularly  choice  remarks  about  him,  and 
had  been  cheered  to  the  echo.  The  Honourable  Adam 
put  the  paper  down,  and  walked  up  the  street  to  talk  to 
Mr.  Burrows,  the  postmaster  whom,  with  the  aid  of  Con 
gressman  Fairplay,  he  had  had  appointed  at  Edmundton. 
The  two  racked  their  brains  for  three  hours  ;  and  Post 
master  Burrows,  who  was  the  fortunate  possessor  of  a 
pass,  offered  to  go  down  to  Ripton  in  the  interest  of  his 
liege  lord  and  see  what  was  up.  The  Honourable  Adam, 
however,  decided  that  he  could  wait  for  twenty-four  hours. 

The  morning  of  the  sixteenth  dawned  clear,  as  beau 
tiful  a  summer's  day  for  a  drive  as  any  man  could  wish. 
But  the  spirit  of  the  Honourable  Adam  did  not  respond 
to  the  weather,  and  he  had  certain  vague  forebodings 
as  his  horse  jogged  toward  Hull,  although  these  did  not 
take  such  a  definite  shape  as  to  make  him  feel  a  premoni 
tory  pull  of  his  coat-tails.  The  ruined  mill  beside  the 
rushing  stream  was  a  picturesque  spot,  and  the  figure  of 
the  Honourable  Hilary  Vane,  seated  on  the  old  millstone, 
in  the  green  and  gold  shadows  of  a  beech,  gave  an  in 
teresting  touch  of  life  to  the  landscape.  The  Honourable 
Adam  drew  up  and  eyed  his  friend  and  associate  of  many 
years  before  addressing  him. 

"  How  are  you,  Hilary  ?  " 

"  Hitch  your  horse,"  said  Mr.  Vane. 

The  Honourable  Adam  was  some  time  in  picking  out  a 
convenient  tree.  Then  he  lighted  a  cigar,  and  approached 
Mr.  Vane,  and  at  length  let  himself  down,  cautiously,  on 
the  millstone.  Sitting  on  his  porch  had  not  improved 
Mr.  Hunt's  figure. 

"  This  is  kind  of  mysterious,  ain't  it,  Hilary  ? "  he 
remarked,  with  a  tug  at  his  goatee. 


t  « I  tl    K  I  H  ^  K  >  > 


HOW    MUCH    HAVE    YOU    SPENT?" 


ST.    GILES   OF  THE   BLAMELESS   LIFE         349 

"  I  don't  know  but  what  it  is,"  admitted  Mr.  Vane, 
who  did  not  look  as  though  the  coming  episode  were  to 
give  him  unqualified  joy. 

"  Fine  weather,"  remarked  the  Honourable  Adam,  with 
a  brave  attempt  at  geniality. 

"  The  paper  predicts  rain  to-morrow,"  said  the  Honour 
able  Hilary. 

"  You  don't  smoke,  do  you  ? "  asked  the  Honourable 
Adam. 

"  iNo,"  said  the  Honourable  Hilary. 

A  silence,  except  for  the  music  of  the  brook  over  the 
broken  dam. 

"  Pretty  place,"  said  the  Honourable  Adam  ;  "  I  kissed 
my  wife  here  once  —  before  I  was  married." 

This  remark,  although  of  interest,  the  Honourable 
Hilary  evidently  thought  did  not  require  an  answer. 

"  Adam,"  said  Mr.  Vane,  presently,  "  how  much  money 
have  you  spent  so  far?  " 

"  Well,"  said  Mr.  Hunt,  "it  has  been  sort  of  costly, 
but  Brush  and  the  boys  tell  me  the  times  are  uncommon, 
and  I  guess  they  are.  If  that  crazy  cuss  Crewe  hadn't 
broken  loose,  it  would  have  been  different.  Not  that 
I'm  uneasy  about  him,  but  all  this  talk  of  his  and  news 
paper  advertising  had  to  be  counteracted  some.  Why,  he 
has  a  couple  of  columns  a  week  right  here  in  the  Ed- 
mundton  Courier.  The  papers  are  bleedin'  him  to  death, 
certain." 

"How  much  have  you  spent?"  asked  the  Honourable 
Hilary. 

The  Honourable  Adam  screwed  up  his  face  and  pulled 
his  goatee  thoughtfully. 

"  What  are  you  trying  to  get  at,  Hilary,"  he  inquired, 
"  sending  for  me  to  meet  you  out  here  in  the  woods  in  this 
curious  way  ?  If  you  wanted  to  see  me,  why  didn't  you 
get  me  to  go  down  to  Ripton,  or  come  up  and  sit  on  my 
porch?  You've  been  there  before." 

"  Times,"  said  the  Honourable  Hilary,  repeating,  per 
haps  unconsciously,  Mr.  Hunt's  words,  "are  uncommon. 
This  man  Crewe's  making  more  headway  than  you  think. 


350  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

The  people  don't  know  him,  and  he's  struck  a  popular 
note.  It's  the  fashion  to  be  down  on  railroads  these 
days." 

"I've  taken  that  into  account,"  replied  Mr.  Hunt. 
"  It's  unlucky,  and  it  comes  high.  I  don't  think  he's 
got  a  show  for  the  nomination,  but  my  dander's  up, 
and  I'll  beat  him  if  I  have  to  mortgage  my  house." 

The  Honourable  Hilary  grunted,  and  ruminated. 

"  How  much  did  you  say  you'd  spent,  Adam  ?  " 

"If  you  think  I'm  not  free  enough,  I'll  loosen  up  a 
little  more,"  said  the  Honourable  Adam. 

"  How  free  have  you  been  ?  "  said  the  Honourable  Hilary. 

For  some  reason  the  question,  put  in  this  form,  was 
productive  of  results. 

"I  can't  say  to  a  dollar,  but  I've  got  all  the  amounts 
down  in  a  book.  I  guess  somewhere  in  the  neighbour 
hood  of  nine  thousand  would  cover  it." 

Mr.  Vane  grunted  again. 

"  Would  you  take  a  cheque,  Adam?  "  he  inquired. 

"  What  for  ?  "  cried  the  Honourable  Adam. 

"  For  the  amount  you've  spent,"  said  the  Honourable 
Hilary,  sententiously. 

The  Honourable  Adam  began  to  breathe  with  ap 
parent  difficulty,  and  his  face  grew  purple.  But  Mr. 
Vane  did  not  appear  to  notice  these  alarming  symp 
toms.  Then  the  candidate  turned  about,  as  on  a  pivot, 
seized  Mr.  Vane  by  the  knee,  and  looked  into  his  face. 

"  Did  you  come  up  here  with  orders  for  me  to  get 
out?"  he  demanded,  with  some  pardonable  violence. 
"  By  thunder,  I  didn't  think  that  of  my  old  friend,  Hilary 
Vane.  You  ought  to  have  known  me  better,  and  Flint 
ought  to  have  known  me  better.  There  ain't  a  mite  of 
use  of  our  staying  here  another  second,  and  you  can  go 
right  back  and  tell  Flint  what  I  said.  Flint  knows  I've 
been  waiting  to  be  governor  for  eight  years,  and  each 
year  it's  been  just  a  year  ahead.  You  ask  him  what  he 
said  to  me  when  he  sent  for  me  to  go  to  New  York. 
I  thought  he  was  a  man  of  his  word,  and  he  promised 
me  that  I  should  be  governor  this  year." 


ST.   GILES   OF   THE   BLAMELESS   LIFE         351 

The  Honourable  Hilary  gave  no  indication  of  being 
moved  by  this  righteous  outburst. 

"You  can  be  governor  next  year,  when  this  reform 
nonsense  has  blown  over,"  he  said.  "  You  can't  be  this 
year,  even  if  you  stay  in  the  race." 

"  Why  not  ? "  the  Honourable  Adam  asked  pugna 
ciously. 

"  Your  record  won't  stand  it  —  not  just  now,"  said  Mr. 
Yane,  slowly. 

"  My  record  is  just  as  good  as  yours,  or  any  man's," 
said  the  Honourable  Adam. 

"  I  never  run  for  office,"  answered  Mr.  Vane. 

"  Haven't  I  spent  the  days  of  my  active  life  in  the  ser 
vice  of  that  road  —  and  is  this  my  reward  ?  Haven't  I 
done  what  Flint  wanted  always  ?  " 

"That's  just  the  trouble,"  said  the  Honourable  Hilary; 
"too  many  folks  know  it.  If  we're  going  to  win  this 
time,  we've  got  to  have  a  man  who's  never  had  any 
Northeastern  connections." 

"  Who  have  you  picked  ?  "  demanded  the  Honourable 
Adam,  with  alarming  calmness. 

"  We  haven't  picked  anybody  yet,"  said  Mr.  Vane, 
"but  the  man  who  goes  in  will  give  you  a  cheque  for 
what  you've  spent,  and  you  can  be  governor  next  time." 

"Well,  if  this  isn't  the  d — dest,  coldest -blooded  propo 
sition  ever  made,  I  want  to  know !  "  cried  the  Honourable 
Adam.  "  Will  Flint  put  up  a  bond  of  one  hundred  thou 
sand  dollars  that  I'll  be  nominated  and  elected  next  year  ? 
This  is  the  clearest  case  of  going  back  on  an  old  friend  I 
ever  saw.  If  this  is  the  way  you  fellows  get  scared  be 
cause  a  sham  reformer  gets  up  and  hollers  against  the 
road,  then  I  want  to  serve  notice  on  you  that  I'm  not  made 
of  that  kind  of  stuff.  When  I  go  into  a  fight,  I  go  in  to 
stay,  and  you  can't  pull  me  out  by  the  coat-tails  in  favour 
of  a  saint  who's  never  done  a  lick  of  work  for  the  road. 
You  tell  Flint  that." 

"All  right,  Adam,"  said  Hilary. 

Some  note  in  Hilary's  voice,  as  he  made  this  brief 
answer,  suddenly  sobered  the  Honourable  Adam,  and 


352  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

sent  a  cold  chill  down  his  spine.  He  had  had  many 
dealings  with  Mr.  Vane,  and  he  had  always  been  as 
putty  in  the  chief  counsel's  hands.  This  simple  acqui 
escence  did  more  to  convince  the  Honourable  Adam  that 
his  chances  of  nomination  were  in  real  danger  than  a  long 
and  forceful  summary  of  the  situation  could  have  accom 
plished.  But  like  many  weak  men,  the  Honourable  Adam 
had  a  stubborn  streak,  and  a  fatuous  idea  that  opposition 
and  indignation  were  signs  of  strength. 

"  I've  made  sacrifices  for  the  road  before,  and  effaced 
myself.  But  by  thunder,  this  is  too  much !  " 

Corporations,  like  republics,  are  proverbially  ungrate 
ful.  The  Honourable  Hilary  might  have  voiced  this  sen 
timent,  but  refrained. 

"Mr.  Flint's  a  good  friend  of  yours,  Adam.  He 
wanted  me  to  say  that  he'd  always  taken  care  of  you, 
and  always  would,  so  far  as  in  his  power.  If  you  can't 
be  landed  this  time,  it's  common  sense  for  you  to  get  out, 
and  wait  —  isn't  it  ?  We'll  see  that  you  get  a  cheque  to 
cover  what  you've  put  out." 

The  humour  in  this  financial  sacrifice  of  Mr.  Flint's 
(which  the  unknown  new  candidate  was  to  make  with  a 
cheque)  struck  neither  the  Honourable  Adam  nor  the 
Honourable  Hilary.  The  transaction,  if  effected,  would 
resemble  that  of  the  shrine  to  the  Virgin  built  by  a 
grateful  Marquis  of  Mantua  —  which  a  Jew  paid  for. 

The  Honourable  Adam  got  to  his  feet. 

"  You  can  tell  Flint,"  he  said,  "  that  if  he  will  sign  a 
bond  of  one  hundred  thousand  dollars  to  elect  me  next 
time,  I'll  get  out.  That's  my  last  word." 

"  All  right,  Adam,"  replied  Mr.  Vane,  rising  also. 

Mr.  Hunt  stared  at  the  Honourable  Hilary  thoughtfully  ; 
and  although  the  gubernatorial  candidate  was  not  an  ob 
servant  man,  he  was  suddenly  struck  by  the  fact  that  the 
chief  counsel  was  growing  old. 

"  I  won't  hold  this  against  you,  Hilary,"  he  said. 

"  Politics,"  said  the  Honourable  Hilary,  "  are  business 
matters." 

"  I'll  show  Flint  that  it  would  have  been  good  business 


ST.   GILES   OF  THE   BLAMELESS   LIFE         353 

to  stick  to  me,"  said  the  Honourable  Adam.  "  When  he 
gets  panicky,  and  spends  all  his  money  on  new  equipment 
and  service,  it's  time  for  me  to  drop  him.  You  can  tell 
him  so  from  me." 

"  Hadn't  you  better  write  him  ?  "  said  the  Honourable 
Hilary. 

The  rumour  of  the  entry  of  Mr.  Giles  Henderson  of 
Kingston  into  the  gubernatorial  contest  preceded,  by  ten 
days  or  so,  the  actual  event.  It  is  difficult  for  the  his 
torian  to  unravel  the  precise  circumstances  which  led  to 
this  candidacy.  Conservative  citizens  throughout  the 
State,  it  was  understood,  had  become  greatly  concerned 
over  the  trend  political  affairs  were  taking;  the  radical 
doctrines  of  one  candidate  —  propounded  for  very  obvi 
ous  reasons  —  they  turned  from  in  disgust ;  on  the  other 
hand,  it  was  evident  that  an  underlying  feeling  existed  in 
certain  sections  that  any  candidate  who  was  said  to  have 
had  more  or  less  connection  with  the  Northeastern  Rail 
roads  was  undesirable  at  the  present  time.  This  was  not 
to  be  taken  as  a  reflection  on  the  Northeastern,  which  had 
been  the  chief  source  of  the  State's  prosperity,  but  merely 
as  an  acknowledgment  that  a  public  opinion  undoubtedly 
existed,  and  ought  to  be  taken  into  consideration  by  the 
men  who  controlled  the  Republican  party. 

This  was  the  gist  of  leading  articles  which  appeared 
simultaneously  in  several  newspapers,  apparently  before 
the  happy  thought  of  bringing  forward  Mr.  Giles  Hen 
derson  had  occurred  to  anybody.  He  was  mentioned 
first,  and  most  properly,  by  the  editor  of  the  Kingston 
Pilot;  and  the  article,  with  comments  upon  it,  ran  like 
wildfire  through  the  press  of  the  State,  —  appearing  even 
in  those  sheets  which  maintained  editorially  that  they 
were  for  the  Honourable  Adam  B.  Hunt  first  and  last 
and  all  the  time.  Whereupon  Mr.  Giles  Henderson  be 
gan  to  receive  visits  from  the  solid  men  —  not  politicians 
—  of  the  various  cities  and  counties.  For  instance,  Mr. 
Silas  Tredway  of  Ripton  made  such  a  pilgrimage  and,  as 
a  citizen  who  had  voted  in  1860  for  Abraham  Lincoln 

2A 


354  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

(showing  Mr.  Tredway  himself  to  have  been  a  radical 
once),  appealed  to  Mr.  Henderson  to  save  the  State. 

At  first  Mr.  Henderson  would  give  no  ear  to  these 
appeals,  but  shook  his  head  pessimistically.  He  was 
not  a  politician  —  so  much  the  better,  we  don't  want  a 
politician ;  he  was  a  plain  business  man  —  exactly  what 
is  needed;  a  conservative,  level-headed  business  man 
wholly  lacking  in  those  sensational  qualities  which  are 
a  stench  in  the  nostrils  of  good  citizens.  Mr.  Giles 
Henderson  admitted  that  the  time  had  come  when  a  man 
of  these  qualities  was  needed  —  but  he  was  not  the  man. 
Mr.  Tredway  was  the  man  —  so  he  told  Mr.  Tredway; 
Mr.  Gates  of  Brampton  was  the  man  —  so  he  assured  Mr. 
Gates.  Mr.  Henderson  had  no  desire  to  meddle  in  poli 
tics;  his  life  was  a  happy  and  a  full  one.  But  was  it  not 
Mr.  Henderson's  duty  ?  Cincinnatus  left  the  plough,  and 
Mr.  Henderson  should  leave  the  ledger  at  the  call  of  his 
countrymen. 

Mr.  Giles  Henderson  was  mild-mannered  and  blue-eyed, 
with  a  scanty  beard  that  was  turning  white ;  he  was  a 
deacon  of  the  church,  a  member  of  the  school  board,  pres 
ident  of  the  Kingston  National  Bank ;  the  main  business 
of  his  life  had  been  in  coal  (which  incidentally  had  had 
to  be  transported  over  the  Northeastern  Railroads); and 
coal  rates,  for  some  reason,  were  cheaper  from  Kingston  than 
from  many  points  out  of  the  State  the  distances  of  which 
were  nearer.  Mr.  Henderson  had  been  able  to  sell  his  coal 
at  a  lower  price  than  any  other  large  dealer  in  the  east 
ern  part  of  the  State.  Mr.  Henderson  was  the  holder  of 
a  large  amount  of  stock  in  the  Northeastern,  inherited 
from  his  father.  Facts  of  no  special  significance,  and  not 
printed  in  the  weekly  newspapers.  Mr.  Henderson  lived 
in  a  gloomy  Gothic  house  on  High  Street,  ate  three  very 
plain  meals  a  day,  and  drank  iced  water.  He  had  been 
a  good  husband  and  a  good  father,  and  had  always  voted 
the  Republican  ticket.  He  believed  in  the  gold  standard, 
a  high  tariff,  and  eternal  damnation.  At  last  his  resist 
ance  was  overcome,  and  he  consented  to  allow  his  name 
to  be  used. 


ST.   GILES   OF  THE   BLAMELESS   LIFE         355 

It  was  used,  with  a  vengeance.  Spontaneous  praise  of 
Mr.  Giles  Henderson  bubbled  up  all  over  the  State,  and 
editors  who  were  for  the  Honourable  Adam  B.  Hunt 
suddenly  developed  a  second  choice.  No  man  within  the 
borders  of  the  commonwealth  had  so  many  good  qualities 
as  the  new  candidate,  and  it  must  have  been  slightly 
annoying  to  one  of  that  gentleman's  shrinking  nature  to 
read  daily,  on  coming  down  to  breakfast,  a  list  of  virtues 
attributed  to  him  as  long  as  a  rate  schedule.  How  he 
must  have  longed  for  the  record  of  one  wicked  deed  to 
make  him  human  ! 

Who  will  pick  a  flaw  in  the  character  of  the  Honour 
able  Giles  Henderson  ?  Let  that  man  now  stand  forth. 

The  news  of  the  probable  advent  of  Mr.  Giles  Hender 
son  on  the  field,  as  well  as  the  tidings  of  his  actual  con 
sent  to  be  a  candidate,  were  not  slow  in  reaching  Leith. 
And  —  Mr.  Crewe's  Bureau  of  Information  being  in  per 
fect  working  order  —  the  dastardly  attempt  on  the  Hon 
ourable  Adam  B.  Hunt's  coat-tails  was  known  there. 
More  wonders  to  relate:  the  Honourable  Adam  B.  Hunt 
had  become  a  reformer ;  he  had  made  a  statement  at  last, 
in  which  he  declared  with  vigour  that  no  machine  or  ring 
was  behind  him ;  he  stood  on  his  own  merits,  invited  the 
minutest  inspection  of  his  record,  declared  that  he  was  an 
advocate  of  good  government,  and  if  elected  would  be  the 
servant  of  no  man  and  of  no  corporation. 

Thrice-blessed  State,  in  which  there  were  now  three 
reform  candidates  for  governor  ! 

All  of  these  happenings  went  to  indicate  confusion  in 
the  enemy's  camp,  and  corresponding  elation  in  Mr. 
Crewe's.  Woe  to  the  reputation  for  political  sagacity 
of  the  gentleman  who  had  used  the  words  "  negligible  " 
and  "  monumental  farce  " !  The  tide  was  turning,  and  the 
candidate  from  Leith  redoubled  his  efforts.  Had  he 
been  confounded  by  the  advent  of  the  Honourable 
Giles?  Not  at  all.  Mr.  Crewe  was  not  given  to  satire; 
his  methods,  as  we  know,  were  direct.  Hence  the  real 
author  of  the  following  passage  in  his  speech  before  an 
overflow  meeting  in  the  State  capital  remains  unknown : 


356  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

"  My  friends,"  Mr.  Crewe  had  said,  "  I  have  been 
waiting  for  the  time  when  St.  Giles  of  the  Blameless  Life 
would  be  pushed  forward,  apparently  as  the  only  hope  of 
our  so-called  'solid  citizens.'  (Prolonged  laughter,  and 
audible  repetitions  of  Mr.  Henderson  s  nickname,  which 
was  to  stick.)  I  will  tell  you  by  whose  desire  St.  Giles 
became  a  candidate,  and  whose  bidding  he  will  do  if  he 
becomes  governor  as  blindly  and  obediently  as  the  Honour 
able  Adam  B.  Hunt  ever  did.  (/Shouts  of  "Flint!"  and 
"  The  Northeastern  !  ")  I  see  you  know.  Who  sent  the 
solid  citizens  to  see  Mr.  Henderson?  ("Flint!")  This 
is  a  clever  trick  —  exactly  what  I  should  have  done  if  I'd 
been  running  their  campaign  —  only  they  didn't  do  it 
early  enough.  They  picked  Mr.  Giles  Henderson  for 
two  reasons  :  because  he  lives  in  Kingston,  which  is  anti- 
railroad  and  supported  the  Gaylord  bill,  and  because  he 
never  in  his  life  committed  any  positive  action,  good  or 
bad  —  and  he  never  will.  And  they  made  another  mis 
take —  the  Honourable  Adam  B.  Hunt  wouldn't  back 
out."  (Laughter  and  cheers.) 


CHAPTER   XXII 

IN   WHICH  EUPHRASIA   TAKES   A   HAND 

AUSTEN  had  not  forgotten  his  promise  to  Euphrasia, 
and  he  had  gone  to  Hanover  Street  many  times  since  his 
sojourn  at  Mr.  Jabe  Jenney's.  Usually  these  visits  had 
taken  place  in  the  middle  of  the  day,  when  Euphrasia, 
with  gentle  but  determined  insistence,  had  made  him  sit 
down  before  some  morsel  which  she  had  prepared  against 
his  coming,  and  which  he  had  not  the  heart  to  refuse. 
In  answer  to  his  inquiries  about  Hilary,  she  would  toss 
her  head  and  reply,  disdainfully,  that  he  was  as  com 
fortable  as  he  should  be.  For  Euphrasia  had  her  own 
strict  ideas  of  justice,  and  to  her  mind  Hilary's  suffering 
was  deserved.  That  suffering  was  all  the  more  terrible 
because  it  was  silent,  but  Euphrasia  was  a  stern  woman. 
To  know  that  he  missed  Austen,  to  feel  that  Hilary  was 
being  justly  punished  for  his  treatment  of  her  idol,  for 
his  callous  neglect  and  lack  of  realization  of  the  blessings 
of  his  life  —  these  were  Euphrasia's  grim  compensations. 

At  times,  even,  she  had  experienced  a  strange  rejoicing 
that  she  had  promised  Austen  to  remain  with  his  father, 
for  thus  it  had  been  given  her  to  be  the  daily  witness  of  a 
retribution  for  which  she  had  longed  during  many  years. 
Nor  did  she  strive  to  hide  her  feelings.  Their  inter 
course,  never  voluminous,  had  shrunk  to  the  barest  ne 
cessities  for  the  use  of  speech  ;  but  Hilary,  ever  since 
the  night  of  his  son's  departure,  had  read  in  the  face 
of  his  housekeeper  a  knowledge  of  his  suffering,  an  ex 
ultation  a  thousand  times  more  maddening  than  the  little 
reproaches  of  language  would  have  been.  He  avoided 
her  more  than  ever,  and  must  many  times  have  regretted 
bitterly  the  fact  that  he  had  betrayed  himself  to  her.  As 

357 


358  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

for  Euphrasia,  she  had  no  notion  of  disclosing  Hilary's 
torture  to  his  son.  She  was  determined  that  the  victory, 
when  it  came,  should  be  Austen's,  and  the  surrender 
Hilary's. 

"He  manages  to  eat  his  meals,  and  gets  along  as  com 
mon,"  she  would  reply.  "  He  only  thinks  of  himself  and 
that  railroad." 

But  Austen  read  between  the  lines. 

"  Poor  old  Judge,"  he  would  answer ;  "  it's  because  he's 
made  that  way,  Phrasie.  He  can't  help  it,  any  more  than 
I  can  help  flinging  law-books  on  the  floor  and  running  off 
to  the  country  to  have  a  good  time.  You  know  as  well 
as  I  do  that  he  hasn't  had  much  joy  out  of  life;  that  he'd 
like  to  be  different,  only  he  doesn't  know  how." 

"  I  can't  see  that  it  takes  much  knowledge  to  treat  a 
wife  and  son  like  human  beings,"  Euphrasia  retorted; 
"that's  only  common  humanity.  For  a  man  that  goes 
to  meetin'  twice  a  week,  you'd  have  thought  he'd  have 
learned  something  by  this  time  out  of  the  New  Testa 
ment.  He's  prayed  enough  in  his  life,  goodness  knows  !  " 

Now  Euphrasia's  ordinarily  sharp  eyes  were  sharpened 
an  hundred  fold  by  affection;  and  of  late,  at  odd  moments 
during  his  visits,  Austen  had  surprised  them  fixed  on  him 
with  a  penetration  that  troubled  him. 

"  You  don't  seem  to  fancy  the  tarts  as  much  as  you 
used  to,"  she  would  remark.  "  Time  was  when  you'd 
eat  three  and  four  at  a  sittiii'." 

"  Phrasie,  one  of  your  persistent  fallacies  is,  that  I'm 
still  a  boy." 

"You  ain't  yourself,"  said  Euphrasia,  ignoring  this 
pleasantry,  "  and  you  ain't  been  yourself  for  some  months. 
I've  seen  it.  I  haven't  brought  you  up  for  nothing.  If 
Ties  troubling  you,  don't  you  worry  a  mite.  He  ain't 
worth  it.  He  eats  better  than  you  do." 

"I'm  not  worrying  much  about  that,"  Austen  answered, 
smiling.  "  The  Judge  and  I  will  patch  it  up  before  long 
—  I'm  sure.  He's  worried  now  over  these  people  who 
are  making  trouble  for  his  railroad." 

"  I   wish   railroads   had   never    been   invented,"    cried 


EUPHRASIA  TAKES   A  HAND  359 

Euphrasia.  "  It  seems  to  me  they  bring  nothing  but 
trouble.  My  mother  used  to  get  along  pretty  well  in 
a  stage-coach." 

One  evening  in  September,  when  the  summer  days  were 
rapidly  growing  shorter  and  the  mists  rose  earlier  in 
the  valley  of  the  Blue,  Austen,  who  had  stayed  late 
at  the  office  preparing  a  case,  ate  his  supper  at  the 
Ripton  House.  As  he  sat  in  the  big  dining  room,  which 
was  almost  empty,  the  sense  of  loneliness  which  he  had 
experienced  so  often  of  late  came  over  him,  and  he 
thought  of  Euphrasia.  His  father,  he  knew,  had  gone 
to  Kingston  for  the  night,  and  so  he  drove  up  Hanover 
Street  and  hitched  Pepper  to  the  stone  post  before  the 
door.  Euphrasia,  according  to  an  invariable  custom, 
would  be  knitting  in  the  kitchen  at  this  hour ;  and  at  the 
sight  of  him  in  the  window,  she  dropped  her  work  with  a 
little,  joyful  cry. 

"I  was  just  thinking  of  you  !  "  she  said,  in  a  low  voice 
of  tenderness  which  many  people  would  not  have  recog 
nized  as  Euphrasia's;  as  though  her  thoughts  of  him  were 
the  errant  ones  of  odd  moments  !  "  I'm  so  glad  you 
come.  It's  lonesome  here  of  evenings,  Austen." 

He  entered  silently  and  sat  down  beside  her,  in  a 
Windsor  chair  which  had  belonged  to  some  remote  Austen 
of  bygone  days. 

"You  don't  have  as  good  things  to  eat  up  at  Mis' 
Jenney's  as  I  give  you,"  she  remarked.  "  Not  that  you 
appear  to  care  much  for  eatables  any  more.  Austen,  are 
you  feeling  poorly  ?  " 

"  I  can  dig  more  potatoes  in  a  day  than  any  other  man 
in  Ripton,"  he  declared. 

"  You'd  ought  to  get  married,"  said  Euphrasia,  abruptly. 
"I've  told  you  that  before, but  you  never  seem  to  pay  any 
attention  to  what  I  say." 

"  Why  haven't  you  tried  it,  Phrasie  ?  "  he  retorted. 

He  was  not  prepared  for  what  followed.  Euphrasia 
did  not  answer  at  once,  but  presently  her  knitting  dropped 
to  her  lap,  and  she  sat  staring  at  the  old  clock  on  the 
kitchen  shelf, 


360  MR.    CREWE'S   CAREER 

"  He  never  asked  me,"  she  said,  simply. 

Austen  was  silent.  The  answer  seemed  to  recall,  with 
infinite  pathos,  Euphrasia's  long-lost  youth,  and  he  had 
not  thought  of  youth  as  a  quality  which  could  ever  have 
pertained  to  her.  She  must  have  been  young  once,  and 
fresh,  and  full  of  hope  for  herself;  she  must  have  known, 
long  ago,  something  of  what  he  now  felt,  something  of 
the  joy  and  pain,  something  of  the  inexpressible,  never 
ceasing  yearning  for  the  fulfilment  of  a  desire  that  dwarfed 
all  others.  Euphrasia  had  been  denied  that  fulfilment. 
And  he  —  would  he,  too,  be  denied  it  ? 

Out  of  Euphrasia's  eyes,  as  she  gazed  at  the  mantel 
shelf,  shone  the  light  of  undying  fires  within  —  fires  which 
at  a  touch  could  blaze  forth  after  endless  years,  transforming 
the  wrinkled  face,  softening  the  sterner  lines  of  character. 
And  suddenly  there  was  a  new  bond  between  the  two. 
So  used  are  the  young  to  the  acceptance  of  the  sacrifice  of 
the  old  that  they  lose  sight  of  that  sacrifice.  But  Austen 
saw  now,  in  a  flash,  the  years  of  Euphrasia's  self-denial, 
the  years  of  memories,  the  years  of  regrets  for  that  which 
might  have  been. 

"  Phrasie,"  he  said,  laying  a  hand  on  hers,  which  rested 
on  the  arm  of  the  chair,  "  I  was  only  joking,  you 
know." 

"  I  know,  I  know,"  Euphrasia  answered  hastily,  and 
turned  and  looked  into  his  face  searchingly.  Her  eyes 
were  undimmed,  and  the  light  was  still  in  them  which  re 
vealed  a  soul  of  which  he  had  had  no  previous  knowledge. 

"  I  know  you  was,  dear.  I  never  told  that  to  a  living 
being  except  your  mother.  He's  dead  now  —  lie  never 
knew.  But  I  told  her  —  I  couldn't  help  it.  She  had 
a  way  of  drawing  things  out  of  you,  and  you  just  couldn't 
resist.  I'll  never  forget  that  day  she  came  in  here  and 
looked  at  me  and  took  my  hand  —  same  as  you  have  it 
now.  She  wasn't  married  then.  I'll  never  forget  the 
sound  of  her  voice  as  she  said,  '  Euphrasia,  tell  me  about 
it.''  (Here  Euphrasia's  own  voice  trembled.)  "I  told 
her,  just  as  I'm  telling  you,  —  because  I  couldn't  help  it. 
Folks  had  to  tell  her  things." 


EUPHRASIA  TAKES   A  HAND  361 

She  turned  her  hand  and  clasped  his  tightly  with  her 
own  thin  fingers. 

"  And  oh,  Austen,"  she  cried,  "  I  want  so  that  you 
should  be  happy !  She  was  so  unhappy,  it  doesn't  seem 
right  that  you  should  be,  too." 

"  I  shall  be,  Phrasie,"  he  said;  "  you  mustn't  worry 
about  that." 

For  a  while  the  only  sound  in  the  room  was  the  ticking 
of  the  old  clock  with  the  quaint,  coloured  picture  on  its 
panel.  And  then,  with  a  movement  which,  strangely,  was 
an  acute  reminder  of  a  way  Victoria  had,  Euphrasia  turned 
and  searched  his  face  once  more. 

"  You're  not  happy,"  she  said. 

He  could  not  put  this  aside — nor  did  he  wish  to.  Her 
own  confidence  had  been  so  simple,  so  fine,  so  sure  of  his 
sympathy,  that  he  felt  it  would  be  unworthy  to  equivocate; 
the  confessions  of  the  self-reliant  are  sacred  things.  Yes, 
and  there  had  been  times  when  he  had  longed  to  unburden 
himself;  but  he  had  had  no  intimate  on  this  plane,  and  — 
despite  the  great  sympathy  between  them — that  Euphrasia 
might  understand  had  never  occurred  to  him.  She  had 
read  his  secret. 

In  that  instant  Euphrasia,  with  the  instinct  which  love 
lends  to  her  sex,  had  gone  farther;  indignation  seized  her 

—  and  the  blame  fell  upon  the  woman.     Austen's  words, 
unconsciously,  were  an  answer  to  her  thoughts. 

"  It  isn't  anybody's  fault  but  my  own,"  he  said. 

Euphrasia's  lips  were  tightly  closed.  Long  ago  the 
idol  of  her  youth  had  faded  into  the  substance  of  which 
dreams  are  made  — to  be  recalled  by  dreams  alone;  another 
worship  had  filled  her  heart,  and  Austen  Vane  had  become 

—  for  her  —  the    fulness  and   the  very  meaning   of   life 
itself;  one  to  be  admired  of  all  men,  to  be  desired  of  all 
women.     Visions  of  Austen's  courtship  had  at  times  risen 
in  her  mind,  although  Euphrasia  would  not  have  called  it 
a  courtship.     When  the  time  came,  Austen  would  confer; 
and  so  sure  of  his  judgment  was  Euphrasia  that  she  was 
prepared  to  take  the  recipient  of  the  priceless  gift  into  her 
arms.     And  now  !     Was  it  possible  that  a  woman  lived 


362  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

who  would  even  hesitate  ?  Curiosity  seized  Euphrasia 
with  the  intensity  of  a  passion.  Who  was  this  woman  ? 
When  and  where  had  he  seen  her?  Ripton  could  not 
have  produced  her  —  for  it  was  characteristic  of  Euphra 
sia  that  no  girl  of  her  acquaintance  was  worthy  to  be 
raised  to  such  a  height ;  Austen's  wife  would  be  an 
unknown  of  ideal  appearance  and  attainments.  Hence 
indignation  rocked  Euphrasia,  and  doubts  swayed  her. 
In  this  alone  she  had  been  an  idealist,  but  she  might  have 
known  that  good  men  were  a  prey  to  the  unworthy  of  the 
opposite  sex. 

She  glanced  at  Austen's  face,  and  he  smiled  at  her 
gently,  as  though  he  divined  something  of  her  thoughts. 

"  If  it  isn't  your  fault  that  you're  not  happy,  then  the 
matter's  easily  mended,"  she  said. 

He  shook  his  head  at  her,  as  though  in  reproof. 

"  Was  yours  — easily  mended  ?  "  he  asked. 

Euphrasia  was  silent  a  moment. 

"  He  never  knew,"  she  repeated,  in  a  low  voice. 

"  Well,  Phrasie,  it  looks  very  much  as  if  we  were  in 
the  same  boat,"  he  said. 

Euphrasia's  heart  gave  a  bound. 

"Then  you  haven't  spoke!"  she  cried;  "I  knew  you 
hadn't.  I  —  I  was  a  woman  —  but  sometimes  I've 
thought  I'd  ought  to  have  given  him  some  sign.  You're 
a  man,  Austen;  thank  God  for  it,  you're  a  man.  If  a 
man  loves  a  woman,  he's  only  got  to  tell  her  so." 

"  It  isn't  as  simple  as  that,"  he  answered. 

Euphrasia  gave  him  a  startled  glance. 

"  She  ain't  married  ?  "  she  exclaimed. 

"  No,"  he  said,  and  laughed  in  spite  of  himself. 

Euphrasia  breathed  again.  Eor  Sarah  Austen  had  had 
a  morality  of  her  own,  and  on  occasions  had  given  ex 
pression  to  extreme  views. 

"  She's  not  playin'  with  you  ?  "  was  Euphrasia's  next 
question,  and  her  tone  boded  ill  to  any  young  person  who 
would  indulge  in  these  tactics  with  Austen. 

He  shook  his  head  again,  and  smiled  at  her  vehemence. 

"  No,  she's  not  playing  with  me  —  she  isn't  that  kind. 


EUPHRASIA  TAKES   A  HAND  363 

I'd  like  to  tell  you,  but  I  can't  —  I  can't.  It  was  only 
because  you  guessed  that  I  said  anything  about  it."  He 
disengaged  his  hand,  and  rose,  and  patted  her  on  the 
cheek.  "  I  suppose  I  had  to  tell  somebody,"  he  said,  "  and 
you  seemed,  somehow,  to  be  the  right  person,  Phrasie." 

Euphrasia  rose  abruptly  and  looked  up  intently  into 
his  face.  He  thought  it  strange  afterwards,  as  he  drove 
along  the  dark  roads,  that  she  had  not  answered  him. 

Even  though  the  matter  were  on  the  knees  of  the  gods, 
Euphrasia  would  have  taken  it  thence,  if  she  could.  Nor 
did  Austen  know  that  she  shared  with  him,  that  night, 
his  waking  hours. 

The  next  morning  Mr.  Thomas  Gaylord,  the  younger, 
was  making  his  way  towards  the  office  of  the  Gaylord 
Lumber  Company,  conveniently  situated  on  Willow 
Street,  near  the  railroad.  Young  Tom  was  in  a  particu 
larly  jovial  frame  of  mind,  despite  the  fact  tfiat  he  had 
arrived  in  Ripton,  on  the  night  express,  as  early  as  five 
o'clock  in  the  morning.  He  had  been  touring  the  State 
ostensibly  on  lumber  business,  but  young  Tom  had  a 
large  and  varied  personal  as  well  as  commercial  acquaint 
ance,  and  he  had  the  inestimable  happiness  of  being 
regarded  as  an  honest  man,  while  his  rough  and  genial 
qualities  made  him  beloved.  For  these  reasons  and  others 
of  a  more  material  nature,  suggestions  from  Mr.  Thomas 
Gaylord  were  apt  to  be  well  received  —  and  Tom  had  been 
making  suggestions. 

Early  as  he  was  at  his  office  —  the  office-boy  was 
sprinkling  the  floor  —  young  Tom  had  a  visitor  who  was 
earlier  still.  Pausing  in  the  doorway,  Mr.  Gaylord  be 
held  with  astonishment  a  prim,  elderly  lady  in  a  stiff, 
black  dress  sitting  upright  on  the  edge  of  a  capacious  oak 
chair  which  seemed  itself  rather  discomfited  by  what  it 
contained,  —  for  its  hospitality  had  hitherto  been  ex 
tended  to  visitors  of  a  very  different  sort. 

"  Well,  upon  my  soul,"  cried  young  Tom,  "  if  it  isn't 
Euphrasia!  " 

"  Yes,  it's  me,"  said  Euphrasia;  "I've  be'n  to  market, 
and  I  had  a  notion  to  see  you  before  I  went  home." 


364  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

Mr.  Gaylord  took  the  office-boy  lightly  by  the  collar  of 
his  coat  and  lifted  him,  sprinkling  can  and  all,  out  of  the 
doorway  and  closed  the  door.  Then  he  drew  his  revolv 
ing  chair  close  to  Euphrasia,  and  sat  down.  They  were 
old  friends,  and  more  than  once  in  a  youth  far  from 
model  Tom  had  experienced  certain  physical  reproof  at 
her  hands,  for  which  he  bore  no  ill-will.  There  was 
anxiety  on  his  face  as  he  asked:  — 

"  There  hasn't  been  any  accident,  has  there,  Euphrasia  ?  " 

"  No,"  she  said. 

"  No  new  row  ?  "  inquired  Tom. 

"  No,"  said  Euphrasia.  She  was  a  direct  person,  as  we 
know,  but  true  descendants  of  the  Puritans  believe  in  the 
decency  of  preliminaries,  and  here  was  certainly  an  affair 
not  to  be  plunged  into.  Euphrasia  was  a  spinster  in  the 
strictest  sense  of  that  formidable  and  highly  descriptive 
term,  and  she  intended  ultimately  to  discuss  with  Tom  a 
subject  of  which  she  was  supposed  by  tradition  to  be 
wholly  ignorant,  the  mere  mention  of  which  still  brought 
warmth  to  her  cheeks.  Such  a  delicate  matter  should 
surely  be  led  up  to  delicately.  In  the  meanwhile  Tom 
was  mystified. 

"  Well,  I'm  mighty  glad  to  see  you,  anyhow,"  he  said 
heartily.  "  It  was  good  of  you  to  call,  Euphrasia.  I 
can't  offer  you  a  cigar." 

"  I  should  think  not,"  said  Euphrasia. 

Tom  reddened.  He  still  retained  for  her  some  of  his 
youthful  awe. 

"  I  can't  do  the  honours  of  hospitality  as  I'd  wish  to," 
lie  went  on ;  "  I  can't  give  you  anything  like  the  pies  you 
used  to  give  me." 

"  You  stole  most  of  'em,"  said  Euphrasia. 

"I  guess  that's  so,"  said  young  Tom,  laughing,  "but 
I'll  never  taste  pies  like  'em  again  as  long  as  I  live.  Do 
you  know,  Euphrasia,  there  were  two  reasons  why  those 
were  the  best  pies  I  ever  ate  ?  " 

"  What  were  they  ?  "  she  asked,  apparently  unmoved. 

"  First,"  said  Tom,  "  because  you  made  'em,  and  sec 
ond,  because  they  were  stolen." 


EUPHRASIA  TAKES   A  HAND  365 

Truly,  young  Toni  had  a  way  with  women,  had  he  only 
been  aware  of  it. 

"  I  never  took  much  stock  in  stolen  things,"  said 
Euphrasia. 

"  It's  because  you  never  were  tempted  with  such  pie 
as  that,"  replied  the  audacious  Mr.  Gaylord. 

"  You're  gettin'  almighty  stout,"  said  Euphrasia. 

As  we  see  her  this  morning,  could  she  indeed  ever 
have  had  a  love  affair  ? 

"  I  don't  have  to  use  my  legs  as  much  as  I  once  did," 
said  Tom.  And  this  remark  brought  to  an  end  the  first 
phase  of  this  conversation,  —  brought  to  an  end,  appar 
ently,  all  conversation  whatsoever.  Tom  racked  his  brain 
for  a  new  topic,  opened  his  roll-top  desk,  drummed  on  it, 
looked  up  at  the  ceiling  and  whistled  softly,  and  then 
turned  and  faced  again  the  imperturbable  Euphrasia. 

"  Euphrasia,"  he  said,  "  you're  not  exactly  a  politician, 
I  believe." 

"  Well,"  said  Euphrasia,  "  I've  be'n  maligned  a  good 
many  times,  but  nobody  ever  went  that  far.'1 

Mr.  Gaylord  shook  with  laughter. 

"  Then  I  guess  there's  no  harm  in  confiding  political 
secrets  to  you,"  he  said.  "  I've  been  around  the  State 
some  this  week,  talking  to  people  I  know,  and  I  believe 
if  your  Austen  wasn't  so  obstinate,  we  could  make  him 
governor." 

"  Obstinate  ?  "  ejaculated  Euphrasia. 

"  Yes,"  said  Tom,  with  a  twinkle  in  his  eye,  "  obstinate. 
He  doesn't  seem  to  want  something  that  most  men  would 
give  their  souls  for." 

"  And  why  should  he  dirty  himself  with  politics  ?  "  she 
demanded.  "  In  the  years  I've  lived  with  Hilary  Vane 
I've  seen  enough  of  politicians,  goodness  knows.  I  never 
want  to  see  another." 

"If  Austen  was  governor,  we'd  change  some  of  that. 
But  mind,  Euphrasia,  this  is  a  secret,"  said  Tom,  raising 
a  warning  finger.  "  If  Austen  hears  about  it  now,  the 
jig's  up." 

Euphrasia  considered  and  thawed  a  little. 


366  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

"  They  don't  often  have  governors  that  young,  do 
they  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  No,"  said  Tom,  forcibly,  "they  don't.  And  so  far  as 
I  know,  they  haven't  had  such  a  governor  for  years  as 
Austen  would  make.  But  he  won't  push  himself.  You 
know,  Euphrasia,  I  have  always  believed  that  he  will  be 
President  some  day." 

Euphrasia  received  this  somewhat  startling  prediction 
complacently.  She  had  no  doubt  of  its  accuracy,  but  the 
enunciation  of  it  raised  young  Tom  in  her  estimation,  and 
incidentally  brought  her  nearer  her  topic. 

"  Austen  ain't  himself  lately,"  she  remarked. 

"  I  knew  that  he  didn't  get  along  with  Hilary,"  said 
Tom,  sympathetically,  beginning  to  realize  now  that 
Euphrasia  had  come  to  talk  about  her  idol. 

"  It's  Hilary  doesn't  get  along  with  him,"  she  retorted 
indignantly.  "  He's  responsible  —  not  Austen.  Of  all 
the  narrow,  pig-headed,  selfish  men  the  Lord  ever  created, 
Hilary  Vane's  the  worst.  It's  Hilary  drove  him  out  of 
his  mother's  house  to  live  with  strangers.  It's  Austen 
that  comes  around  to  inquire  for  his  father — Hilary 
never  has  a  word  to  say  about  Austen."  A  trace  of  colour 
actually  rose  under  Euphrasia 's  sallow  skin,  and  she  cast 
her  eyes  downward.  "  You've  known  him  a  good  while, 
haven't  you,  Tom  ?  " 

"  All  my  life,"  said  Tom,  mystified  again,  "  all  my  life. 
And  I  think  more  of  him  than  of  anybody  else  in  the 
world." 

"  I  calculated  as  much,"  she  said;  "that's  why  I  came." 
She  hesitated.  Artful  Euphrasia !  We  will  let  the  in 
genuous  Mr.  Gaylord  be  the  first  to  mention  this  delicate 
matter,  if  possible.  "  Goodness  knows,  it  ain't  Hilary  I 
came  to  talk  about.  I  had  a  notion  that  you'd  know  if  — 
anything  else  was  troubling  Austen." 

"  Why,"  said  Tom,  "-there  can't  be  any  business  troubles 
outside  of  those  Hilary's  mixed  up  in.  Austen  doesn't 
spend  any  money  to  speak  of,  except  what  he  gives  away, 
and  he's  practically  chief  counsel  for  our  company." 

Euphrasia  was  silent  a  moment. 


EUPHRASIA  TAKES   A   HAND  367 

"  I  suppose  there's  nothing  else  that  could  bother  him," 
she  remarked.  She  had  never  held  Tom  Gay  lord's  powers 
of  comprehension  in  high  estimation,  and  the  estimate  had 
not  risen  during  this  visit.  But  she  had  undervalued  him ; 
even  Tom  could  rise  to  an  inspiration  —  when  the  sources 
of  all  other  inspirations  were  eliminated. 

"  Why,"  he  exclaimed,  with  a  masculine  lack  of  delicacy, 
"  he  may  be  in  love  !  " 

"  That's  struck  you,  has  it  ?  "  said  Euphrasia. 

But  Tom  appeared  to  be  thinking ;  he  was,  in  truth, 
engaged  in  collecting  his  cumulative  evidence  :  Austen's 
sleigh-ride  at  the  capital,  which  he  had  discovered ;  his 
talk  with  Victoria  after  her  fall,  when  she  had  betrayed 
an  interest  in  Austen  which  Tom  had  thought  entirely 
natural ;  and  finally  Victoria's  appearance  at  Mr.  Crewe's 
rally  in  Ripton.  Young  Mr.  Gaylord  had  not  had  a  great 
deal  of  experience  in  affairs  of  the  heart,  and  he  was  himself 
aware  that  his  diagnosis  in  such  a  matter  wrould  not  carry 
much  weight.  He  had  conceived  a  tremendous  admiration 
for  Victoria,  which  had  been  shaken  a  little  by  the  sus 
picion  that  she  might  be  intending  to  marry  Mr.  Crewe. 
Tom  Gaylord  saw  no  reason  why  Austen  Vane  should 
not  marr}'  Mr.  Flint's  daughter  if  he  chose  —  or  any  other 
man's  daughter ;  partaking,  in  this  respect,  somewhat  of 
Euphrasia's  view.  As  for  Austen  himself,  Tom  had  seen 
no  symptoms  ;  but  then,  he  reflected,  he  would  not  be 
likely  to  see  any.  However,  he  perceived  the  object  now 
of  Euphrasia's  visit,  and  began  to  take  the  liveliest  inter 
est  in  it. 

"  So  you  think  Austen's  in  love  ?  "  he  demanded. 

Euphrasia  sat  up  straighter,  if  anything. 

"  I  didn't  say  anything  of  the  kind,"  she  returned. 

44  He  wouldn't  tell  me,  you  know,"  said  Tom ;  "  I  can 
only  guess  at  it." 

"  And  the  —  lady  ?  "  said  Euphrasia,  craftily. 

"  I'm  up  a  tree  there,  too.  All  I  know  is  that  he  took 
her  sleigh-riding  one  afternoon  at  the  capital,  and  wouldn't 
tell  me  who  he  was  going  to  take.  And  then  she  fell  off 
her  horse  down  at  East  Tunbridge  Station  —  " 


368  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

"  Fell  off  her  horse  !  "  echoed  Euphrasia,  an  accident 
comparable  in  her  mind  to  falling  off  a  roof.  What 
manner  of  young  woman  was  this  who  fell  off  horses  ? 

"  She  wasn't  hurt,"  Tom  continued,  "  and  she  rode  the 
beast  home.  He  was  a  wild  one,  I  can  tell  you,  and  she's 
got  pluck.  That's  the  first  time  I  ever  met  her,  although 
I  had  often  seen  her  and  thought  she  was  a  stunner  to 
look  at.  She  talked  as  if  she  took  an  interest  in  Austen." 

An  exact  portrayal  of  Euphrasia's  feelings  at  this  de 
scription  of  the  object  of  Austen's  affections  is  almost 
impossible.  A  young  woman  who  was  a  stunner,  who 
rode  wild  horses  and  fell  off  them  and  rode  them  again, 
was  beyond  the  pale  not  only  of  Euphrasia's  experience 
but  of  her  imagination  likewise.  And  this  hoyden  had 
talked  as  though  she  took  an  interest  in  Austen!  Eu 
phrasia  was  speechless. 

"  The  next  time  I  saw  her,"  said  Tom,  "  was  when  she 
came  down  here  to  listen  to  Humphrey  Crewe's  attacks 
on  the  railroad.  I  thought  that  was  a  sort  of  a  queer 
thing  for  Flint's  daughter  to  do,  but  Austen  didn't  seem 
to  look  at  it  that  way.  He  talked  to  her  after  the  show 
was  over." 

At  this  point  Euphrasia  could  contain  herself  no  longer, 
and  in  her  excitement  she  slipped  off  the  edge  of  the 
chair  and  on  to  her  feet. 

"Flint's  daughter?"  she  cried;  "Augustus  P.  Flint's 
daughter  ?  " 

Tom  looked  at  her  in  amazement. 

"Didn't  you  know  who  it  was  ?"  he  stammered.  But 
Euphrasia  was  not  listening. 

"I've  seen  her,"  she  was  saying;  "I've  seen  her  ridin' 
through  Ripton  in  that  little  red  wagon,  drivin'  her 
self,  with  a  coachman  perched  up  beside  her.  Flint's 
daughter!  "  Euphrasia  became  speechless  once  more,  the 
complications  opened  up  being  too  vast  for  intelligent 
comment.  Euphrasia,  however,  grasped  some  of  the 
problems  which  Austen  had  had  to  face.  Moreover,  she 
had  learned  what  she  had  come  for,  and  the  obvioi 
thing  to  do  now  was  to  go  home  and  reflect.  So,  with- 


EUPHRASIA  TAKES   A   HAND  369 

out  further  ceremony,  she  walked  to  the  door  and  opened 
it,  and  turned  again  with  her  hand  on  the  knob.  "  Look 
here,  Tom  Gaylord,"  she  said,  "  if  you  tell  Austen  I  was 
here,  I'll  never  forgive  you.  I  don't  believe  you've  got 
any  more  sense  than  to  do  it." 

And  with  these  words  she  took  her  departure,  ere  the 
amazed  Mr.  Gaylord  had  time  to  show  her  out.  Half 
an  hour  elapsed  before  he  opened  his  letters. 

When  she  arrived  home  in  Hanover  Street  it  was  nine 
o'clock  —  an  hour  well  on  in  the  day  for  Euphrasia.  Un 
locking  the  kitchen  door,  she  gave  a  glance  at  the  stove 
to  assure  herself  that  it  had  not  been  misbehaving,  and 
went  into  the  passage  on  her  way  up-stairs  to  take  off 
her  gown  before  sitting  down  to  reflect  upon  the  astonish 
ing  thing  she  had  heard.  Habit  had  so  crystallized  in 
Euphrasia  that  no  news,  however  amazing,  could  have 
shaken  it.  But  in  the  passage  she  paused ;  an  unwonted, 
or  rather  untimely,  sound  reached  her  ears,  a  sound 
which  came  from  the  front  of  the  house  —  and  at  nine 
o'clock  in  the  morning  !  Had  Austen  been  at  home,  Eu 
phrasia  would  have  thought  nothing  of  it.  In  her  re 
membrance  Hilary  Vane,  whether  he  returned  from  a 
journey  or  not,  had  never  been  inside  the  house  at  that 
hour  on  a  week-day  ;  and,  unlike  the  gentleman  in  "  La 
Vie  de  Boheme,"  Euphrasia  did  not  have  to  be  reminded 
of  the  Sabbath. 

Perhaps  Austen  had  returned  !  Or  perhaps  it  was  a 
burglar  !  Euphrasia,  undaunted,  ran  through  the  dark 
ened  front  hall  to  where  the  graceful  banister  ended  in 
a  curve  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs,  and  there,  on  the  bottom 
step,  sat  a  man  with  his  head  in  his  hands.  Euphrasia 
shrieked.  He  looked  up,  and  she  saw  that  it  was  Hilary 
Vane.  She  would  have  shrieked,  anyway. 

"What  in  the  world's  the  matter  with  you?;'  she 
cried. 

"I  —  I  stumbled  coming  down  the  stairs,"  he  said. 

"  But  what  are  you  doing  at  home  in  the  middle  of  the 
morning?"  she  demanded. 

He    did  not  answer   her.      The    subdued   light  which 

2B 


370  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

crept  under  the  porch  and  came  in  through  the  fan- 
shaped  window  over  the  door  fell  on  his  face. 

"  Are  you  sick  ?  "  said  Euphrasia.  In  all  her  life  she 
had  never  seen  him  look  like  that. 

He  shook  his  head,  but  did  not  attempt  to  rise.  A 
Hilary  Vane  without  vigour! 

"No,"  he  said,  uno.  I  just  came  up  here  from  the 
train  to  —  get  somethin'  I'd  left  in  my  room." 

"  A  likely  story !  "  said  Euphrasia.  "You've  never  done 
that  in  thirty  years.  You're  sick,  and  I'm  a-going  for 
the  doctor." 

She  put  her  hand  to  his  forehead,  but  he  thrust  it  away 
and  got  to  his  feet,  although  in  the  effort  he  compressed 
his  lips  and  winced. 

"  You  stay  where  you  are,"  he  said  ;  "  I  tell  you  I'm  not 
sick,  and  I'm  going  down  to  the  square.  Let  the  doc 
tors  alone —  I  haven't  got  any  use  for  'em." 

He  walked  to  the  door,  opened  it,  and  went  out  and 
slammed  it  in  her  face.  By  the  time  she  had  got  it  open 
again  —  a  crack  —  he  had  reached  the  sidewalk,  and  was 
apparently  in  fall  possession  of  his  powers  and  faculties. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

A  FALLING-OUT   IN   HIGH  PLACES 

ALTHOUGH  one  of  the  most  exciting  political  battles 
ever  fought  is  fast  coming  to  its  climax,  and  a  now  jubilant 
Mr.  Crewe  is  contesting  every  foot  of  ground  in  the  State 
with  the  determination  and  pertinacity  which  make  him  a 
marked  man ;  although  the  convention  wherein  his  fate 
will  be  decided  is  now  but  a  few  days  distant,  and  every 
thing  has  been  done  to  secure  a  victory  which  mortal  man 
can  do,  let  us  follow  Hilary  Vane  to  Fairview.  Not  that 
Hilary  has  been  idle.  The  "  Book  of  Arguments  "  is  ex 
hausted,  and  the  chiefs  and  the  captains  have  been  to 
Ripton,  and  received  their  final  orders,  but  more  than  one 
has  gone  back  to  his  fief  with  the  vision  of  a  changed 
Hilary  who  has  puzzled  them.  Rumours  have  been  in  the 
air  that  the  harmony  between  the  Source  of  Power  and  the 
Distribution  of  Power  is  not  as  complete  as  it  once  was. 
Certainly,  Hilary  Vane  is  not  the  man  he  was  —  although 
this  must  not  even  be  whispered.  Senator  Whitredge 
had  told  —  but  never  mind  that.  In  the  old  days  an 
order  was  an  order ;  there  were  no  rebels  then.  In  the 
old  days  there  was  no  wavering  and  rescinding,  and  if  the 
chief  counsel  told  you,  with  brevity,  to  do  a  thing,  you 
went  and  did  it  straightway,  with  the  knowledge  that  it 
was  the  best  thing  to  do.  Hilary  Vane  had  aged  sud 
denly,  and  it  occurred  for  the  first  time  to  many  that,  in 
this  utilitarian  world,  old  blood  must  be  superseded  by 
young  blood. 

Two  days  before  the  convention,  immediately  after  tak 
ing  dinner  at  the  Ripton  House  with  Mr.  Nat  Billings, 
Hilary  Vane,  in  response  to  a  summons,  drove  up  to 
Fairview.  One  driving  behind  him  would  have  observed 

371 


372  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

that  the  Honourable  Hilary's  horse  took  his  own  gaits,  and 
that  the  reins,  most  of  the  time,  drooped  listlessly  on  his 
quarters.  A  September  stillness  was  in  the  air,  a  Septem 
ber  purple  clothed  the  distant  hills,  but  to  Hilary  the 
glories  of  the  day  were  as  things  non-existent.  Even  the 
groom  at  Fairview,  who  took  his  horse,  glanced  back  at 
him  with  a  peculiar  expression  as  he  stood  for  a  moment 
on  the  steps  with  a  hesitancy  the  man  had  never  before 
remarked. 

In  the  meantime  Mr.  Flint,  with  a  pile  of  letters  in  a 
special  basket  on  the  edge  of  his  desk,  was  awaiting  his 
counsel ;  the  president  of  the  Northeastern  was  pacing  his 
room,  as  was  his  wont  when  his  activities  were  for  a  mo 
ment  curbed,  or  when  he  had  something  on  his  mind;  and 
every  few  moments  he  would  glance  towards  his  mantel 
at  the  clock  which  was  set  to  railroad  time.  In  past 
days  he  had  never  known  Hilary  Vane  to  be  a  moment 
late  to  an  appointment.  The  door  was  open,  and  five  and 
twenty  minutes  had  passed  the  hour  before  he  saw  the 
lawyer  in  the  doorway.  Mr.  Flint  was  a  man  of  such 
preoccupation  of  mind  that  he  was  not  likely  to  be  struck 
by  any  change  there  might  have  been  in  his  counsel's 
appearance. 

"  It's  half-past  three,"  he  said. 

Hilary  entered,  and  sat  down  beside  the  window. 

"  You  mean  that  I'm  late,"  he  replied. 

"  I've  got  some  engineers  coming  here  in  less  than  an 
hour,"  said  Mr.  Flint. 

"  I'll  be  gone  in  less  than  an  hour,"  said  Hilary. 

"  Well,"  said  Mr.  Flint,  "  let's  get  down  to  hardtack. 
I've  got  to  be  frank  with  you,  Vane,  and  tell  you  plainly 
that  this  political  business  is  all  at  sixes  and  sevens." 

"  It  isn't  necessary  to  tell  me  that,"  said  Hilary. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  I  mean  that  I  know  it." 

"  To  put  it  mildly,"  the  president  of  the  Northeastern 
continued,  "  it's  the  worst  mixed-up  campaign  I  ever 
knew.  Here  we  are  with  the  convention  only  two  dayb 
off,  and  we  don't  know  where  we  stand,  how  many  dele- 


A  FALLING-OUT  IN   HIGH  PLACES  373 

gates  we've  got,  or  whether  this  upstart  at  Leith  is  going 
to  be  nominated  over  our  heads.  Here's  Adam  Hunt  with 
his  back  up,  declaring  he's  a  reformer,  and  all  his  section 
of  the  State  behind  him.  Now  if  that  could  have  been 
handled  otherwise  —  " 

"  Who  told  Hunt  to  go  in  ?  "  Hilary  inquired. 

"  Things  were  different  then,"  said  Mr.  Flint,  vigor 
ously.  "  Hunt  had  been  promised  the  governorship  for 
a  long  time,  and  when  Ridout  became  out  of  the  ques 
tion - 

"  Why  did  Ridout  become  out  of  the  question  ?"  asked 
Hilary. 

Mr.  Flint  made  a  gesture  of  impatience. 

"  On  account  of  that  foolishness  in  the  Legislature,  of 
course." 

" 4  That  foolishness  in  the  Legislature,'  as  you  call  it, 
represented  a  sentiment  all  over  the  State,"  said  Hilary. 
"  And  if  I'd  be'n  you,  I  wouldn't  have  let  Hunt  in  this 
year.  But  you  didn't  ask  my  opinion.  You  asked  me 
when  you  begged  me  to  get  Adam  out,  and  I  predicted 
that  he  wouldn't  get  out." 

Mr.  Flint  took  a  turn  up  and  down  the  room. 

"  I'm  sorry  I  didn't  send  for  him  to  go  to  New  York," 
he  said.  "  Well,  anyway,  the  campaign's  been  muddled, 
that's  certain,  —  whoever  muddled  it."  And  the  presi 
dent  looked  at  his  counsel  as  though  he,  at  least,  had  no 
doubts  on  this  point.  But  Hilary  appeared  unaware  of 
the  implication,  and  made  no  reply. 

"I  can't  find  out  what  Bascom  and  Botcher  are  doing," 
Mr.  Flint  went  on;  "I  don't  get  any  reports  —  they  haven't 
been  here.  Perhaps  you  know.  They've  had  trip  passes 
enough  to  move  the  whole  population  of  Putnam  County. 
Fairplay  says  they're  gettin'  delegates  for  Adam  Hunt 
instead  of  Giles  Henderson.  And  Whitredge  says  that 
Jake  Botcher  is  talking  reform." 

"I  guess  Botcher  and  Bascom  know  their  business," 
said  Mr.  Vane.  If  Mr.  Flint  had  been  a  less  concentrated 
man,  he  might  have  observed  that  the  Honourable  Hilary 
had  not  cut  a  piece  of  Honey  Dew  this  afternoon. 


374  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

"  What  is  their  business  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Flint  —  a  little 
irrelevantly  for  him. 

"  What  you  and  I  taught  'em,"  said  Mr.  Vane. 

Mr.  Flint  considered  this  a  moment,  and  decided  to  let 
it  pass.  He  looked  at  the  Honourable  Hilary  more 
closely,  however. 

"  What's  the  matter  with  you,  Vane  ?  You're  not  sick, 
are  you  ?  " 

"No." 

Mr.  Flint  took  another  turn. 

"Now  the  question  is,  what  are  we  going  to  do?  If 
you've  got  any  plan,  I  want  to  hear  it." 

Mr.  Vane  was  silent. 

"  Suppose  Crewe  goes  into  the  convention  with  enough 
delegates  to  lock  it  up,  so  that  none  of  the  three  has  a 
majority?  " 

"  I  guess  he'll  do  that,"  said  Mr.  Vane.  He  fumbled 
in  his  pocket,  and  drew  out  a  typewritten  list.  It  must 
be  explained  that  the  caucuses,  or  primaries,  had  been 
held  in  the  various  towns  of  the  State  at  odd  dates,  and 
that  the  delegates  pledged  for  the  different  candidates 
had  been  published  in  the  newspapers  from  time  to  time 
—  although  very  much  in  accordance  with  the  desires  of 
their  individual  newspapers.  Mr.  Crewe's  delegates  nec 
essarily  had  been  announced  by  what  is  known  as  political 
advertising.  Mr.  Flint  took  the  Honourable  Hilary's  list, 
ran  his  eye  over  it,  and  whistled. 

"  You  mean  he  claims  three  hundred  and  fifty  out  of 
the  thousand." 

"  No,"  said  Hilary,  "  he  claims  six  hundred.  He'll 
have  three  hundred  and  fifty." 

In  spite  of  the  "  Book  of  Arguments,"  Mr.  Crewe  was  to 
have  three  hundred  !  It  was  incredible,  preposterous. 
Mr.  Flint  looked  at  his  counsel  once  more,  and  wondered 
whether  he  could  be  mentally  failing. 

"  Fairplay  only  gives  him  two  hundred." 

"  Fairplay  only  gave  him  ten,  in  the  beginning,"  said 
Hilary. 

"  You  come  here  two  days  before  the  convention  and 


A  FALLING-OUT  IN   HIGH  PLACES          375 

tell  me  Crewe  has  three  hundred  and  fifty  !  "  Mr.  Flint 
exclaimed,  as  though  Hilary  Vane  were  personally  re 
sponsible  for  Mr.  Crewe's  delegates.  A  very  different 
tone  from  that  of  other  times,  when  conventions  were  mere 
ratifications  of  Imperial  decrees.  "Do  you  realize  what  it 
means  if  we  lose  control  ?  Thousands  and  thousands  of 
dollars  in  improvements  —  rolling  stock,  better  service, 
new  bridges,  and  eliminations  of  grade  crossings.  And 
they'll  raise  our  tax  rate  to  the  average,  which  means 
thousands  more.  A  new  railroad  commission  that  we  can't 
talk  to,  and  lower  dividends  —  lower  dividends,  do  you 
understand  ?  That  means  trouble  with  the  directors,  the 
stockholders,  and  calls  for  explanations.  And  what  ex 
planations  can  I  make  which  can  be  printed  in  a  public 
report?  " 

"  You  were  always  pretty  good  at  'em,  Flint,"  said  Hilary. 

This  remark,  as  was  perhaps  natural,  did  not  improve 
the  temper  of  the  president  of  the  Northeastern. 

"  If  you  think  I  like  this  political  business  any  better 
than  you  do,  you're  mightily  mistaken,"  he  replied. 
"  And  now  I  want  to  hear  what  plan  you've  got  for  the 
convention.  Suppose  there's  a  deadlock,  as  you  say  there 
will  be,  how  are  you  going  to  handle  it  ?  Can  you  get  a 
deal  through  between  Giles  Henderson  and  Adam  Hunt  ? 
With  all  my  other  work,  I've  had  to  go  into  this  myself. 
Hunt  hasn't  got  a  chance.  Bascom  and  Botcher  are 
egging  him  on  and  making  him  believe  he  has.  When 
Hunt  gets  into  the  convention  and  begins  to  fall  off, 
you've  got  to  talk  to  him,  Vane.  And  his  delegates  have 
all  got  to  be  seen  at  the  Pelican  the  night  before  and 
understand  that  they're  to  swing  to  Henderson  after  two 
ballots.  You've  got  to  keep  your  hand  on  the  throttle  in 
the  convention,  you  understand.  And  I  don't  need  to 
impress  upon  you  how  grave  are  the  consequences  if  this 
man  Crewe  gets  in,  with  public  sentiment  behind  him  and 
a  reactionary  Lower  House.  You've  got  to  keep  your 
hand  on  the  throttle." 

"That's  part  of  my  business,  isn't  it?"  Hilary  asked, 
without  turning1  his  head. 


376  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

Mr.  Flint  did  not  answer,  but  his  eye  rested  again  on 
his  counsel's  face. 

"  I'm  that  kind  of  a  lawyer,"  Hilary  continued,  appar 
ently  more  to  himself  than  to  his  companion.  "  You  pay 
me  for  that  sort  of  thing  more  than  for  the  work  I  do  in 
the  courts.  Isn't  that  so,  Flint  ?  " 

Mr.  Flint  was  baffled.  Two  qualities  which  were  very 
dear  to  him  he  designated  as  sane  and  safe,  and  he  had 
hitherto  regarded  his  counsel  as  the  sanest  and  safest  of 
men.  This  remark  made  him  wonder  seriously  whether 
the  lawyer's  mind  were  not  giving  away  ;  and  if  so,  to 
whom  was  he  to  turn  at  this  eleventh  hour  ?  No  man  in 
the  State  knew  the  ins  and  outs  of  conventions  as  did 
Hilary  Vane  ;  and,  in  the  rare  times  when  there  had  been 
crises,  he  had  sat  quietly  in  the  little  room  off  the  plat 
form  as  at  the  keyboard  of  an  organ,  and  the  delegates 
had  responded  to  his  touch.  Hilary  Vane  had  named  the 
presidents  of  conventions,  and  the  committees,  and  by 
pulling  out  stops  could  get  such  resolutions  as  he  wished 
—  or  as  Mr.  Flint  wished.  But  now  ? 

Suddenly  a  suspicion  invaded  Mr.  Flint's  train  of 
thought  ;  he  repeated  Hilary's  words  over  to  himself. 
"  I'm  that  kind  of  a  lawyer,"  and  another  individuality 
arose  before  the  president  of  the  Northeastern.  Instincts 
are  curious  things.  On  the  day,  some  years  before,  when 
Austen  Vane  had  brought  his  pass  into  this  very  room 
and  laid  it  down  on  his  desk,  Mr.  Flint  had  recognized  a 
man  with  whom  he  would  have  to  deal,  —  a  stronger  man 
than  Hilary.  Since  then  he  had  seen  Austen's  hand  in 
various  disturbing  matters,  and  now  it  was  as  if  he  heard 
Austen  speaking.  "Tm  that  kind  of  a  lawyer.'''  Not 
Hilary  Vane,  but  Hilary  Vane's  son  was  responsible  for 
Hilary  Vane's  condition  —  this  recognition  came  to  Mr. 
Flint  in  a  flash.  Austen  had  somehow  accomplished  the 
incredible  feat  of  making  Hilary  Vane  ashamed  —  and 
when  such  men  as  Hilary  are  ashamed,  their  usefulness 
is  over.  Mr.  Flint  had  seen  the  thing  happen  with 
a  certain  kind  of  financiers,  one  day  aggressive,  com 
bative,  and  the  next  broken,  querulous  men.  Let  a 


A  FALLING-OUT  IN   HIGH  PLACES  377 

man  cease  to  believe  in  what  he  is  doing,  and  he  loses 
force. 

The  president  of  the  Northeastern  used  a  locomotive  as 
long  as  possible,  but  when  it  ceased  to  be  able  to  haul  a 
train  up-grade,  he  sent  it  to  the  scrap-heap.  Mr.  Flint 
was  far  from  being  a  bad  man,  but  he  worshipped  power, 
and  his  motto  was  the  survival  of  the  fittest.  He  did  not 
yet  feel  pity  for  Hilary  —  for  he  was  angry.  Only  con 
tempt,  —  contempt  that  one  who  had  been  a  power  should 
come  to  this.  To  draw  a  somewhat  far-fetched  parallel, 
a  Captain  Kidd  or  a  Caesar  Borgia  with  a  conscience  would 
never  have  been  heard  of.  Mr.  Flint  did  not  call  it  a 
conscience  —  he  had  a  harder  name  for  it.  He  had  to 
send  Hilary,  thus  vitiated,  into  the  Convention  to  conduct 
the  most  important  battle  since  the  founding  of  the  Em 
pire,  and  Austen  Vane  was  responsible. 

Mr.  Flint  had  to  control  himself.  In  spite  of  his  feel 
ings,  he  saw  that  he  must  do  so.  And  yet  he  could  not 
resist  saying :  — 

"  I  get  a  good  many  rumours  here.  They  tell  me  that 
there  may  be  another  candidate  in  the  field  —  a  dark  horse." 

"Who?"  asked  Hilary. 

"  There  was  a  meeting  in  the  room  of  a  man  named 
Redbrook  during  the  Legislature  to  push  this  candidate," 
said  Mr.  Flint,  eyeing  his  counsel  significantly,  "  and 
now  young  Gaylord  has  been  going  quietly  around  the 
State  in  his  interest." 

Suddenly  the  listless  figure  of  Hilary  Vane  straightened, 
and  the  old  look  which  had  commanded  the  respect  and 
obedience  of  men  returned  to  his  eye. 

"  You  mean  my  son  ?  "  he  demanded. 
^  "  Yes,"  said  Mr.  Flint ;  "  they  tell  me  that  when  the 
time  comes,  your  son  will  be  a  candidate  on  a  platform 
opposed  to  our  interests." 

"Then,"  said  Hilary,  "they  tell  you  a  damned  lie." 

Hilary  Vane  had  not  sworn  for  a  quarter  of  a  century, 
and  yet  it  is  to  be  doubted  if  he  ever  spoke  more  nobly. 
He  put  his  hands  on  the  arms  of  his  chair  and  lifted  him 
self  to  his  feet,  where  he  stood  for  a  moment,  a  tall  figure 


378  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

to  be  remembered.  Mr.  Flint  remembered  it  for  many 
years.  Hilary  Vane's  long  coat  was  open,  and  seemed  in 
itself  to  express  this  strange  and  new-found  vigour  in  its 
flowing  lines ;  his  head  was  thrown  back,  and  a  look  on 
his  face  which  Mr.  Flint  had  never  seen  there.  He  drew 
from  an  inner  pocket  a  long  envelope,  and  his  hand 
trembled,  though  with  seeming  eagerness,  as  he  held  it 
out  to  Mr.  Flint. 

"  Here  !  "  he  said. 

"What's  this?"  asked  Mr.  Flint.  He  evinced  no 
desire  to  take  it,  but  Hilary  pressed  it  on  him. 

"  My  resignation  as  counsel  for  your  road." 

The  president  of  the  Northeastern,  bewildered  by  this 
sudden  transformation,  stared  at  the  envelope. 

"  What  ?     Now  —  to-day  ?  "  he  said. 

"No,"  answered  Hilary;  "read  it.  You'll  see  it  takes 
effect  the  day  after  the  State  convention.  I'm  not  much 
use  any  more  —  you've  done  your  best  to  bring  that  home 
to  me,  and  you'll  need  a  new  man  to  do  —  the  kind  of  work 
I've  been  doing  for  you  for  twenty-five  years.  But  you 
can't  get  a  new  man  in  a  day,  and  I  said  I'd  stay  with  you, 
and  I  keep  my  word.  I'll  go  to  the  convention  ;  I'll  do  my 
best  for  you,  as  I  always  have.  But  I  don't  like  it,  and 
after  that  I'm  through.  After  that  I  become  a  lawyer  — 
a  lawyer,  do  you  understand  ?  " 

"  A  lawyer  ?  "  Mr>  Flint  repeated. 

"Yes,  a  lawyer.  Ever  since  last  June,  when  I  came 
up  here,  I've  realized  what  I  was.  A  Brush  Bascom, 
with  a  better  education  and  more  brains,  but  a  Brush 
Bascom  —  with  the  brains  prostituted.  While  things 
were  going  along  smoothly  I  didn't  know  —  you  never 
attempted  to  talk  to  me  this  way  before.  Do  you  re 
member  how  you  took  hold  of  me  that  day,  and  begged 
me  to  stay  ?  I  do,  and  I  stayed.  Why  ?  Because  I 
was  a  friend  of  yours.  Association  with  you  for  twenty- 
five  years  had  got  under  my  skin,  and  I  thought  it  had 
got  under  yours."  Hilary  let  his  hand  fall.  "  To-day 
you've  given  me  a  notion  of  what  friendship  is.  You've 
given  me  a  chance  to  estimate  myself  on  a  new  basis,  and 


A  FALLING-OUT   IN  HIGH  PLACES          379 

I'm  much  obliged  to  you  for  that.  I  haven't  got  many 
years  left,  but  I'm  glad  to  have  found  out  what  my  life 
has  been  worth  before  I  die." 

He  buttoned  up  his  coat  slowly,  glaring  at  Mr.  Flint 
the  while  with  a  courage  and  a  defiance  that  were  superb. 
And  he  had  picked  up  his  hat  before  Mr.  Flint  found  his 
tongue. 

"  You  don't  mean  that,  Vane,"  he  cried.  "  My  God, 
think  what  you've  said  !  " 

Hilary  pointed  at  the  desk  with  a  shaking  finger. 

"If  that  were  a  scaffold,  and  a  rope  were  around  my 
neck,  I'd  say  it  over  again.  And  I  thank  God  I've  had 
a  chance  to  say  it  to  you."  He  paused,  cleared  his  throat, 
and  continued  in  a  voice  that  all  at  once  had  become  un 
emotional  and  natural.  "  I've  three  tin  boxes  of  the 
private  papers  you  wanted.  I  didn't  think  of  'em  to-day, 
but  I'll  bring  'em  up  to  you  myself  on  Thursday." 

Mr.  Flint  reflected  afterwards  that  what  made  him 
helpless  must  have  been  the  sudden  change  in  Hilary's 
manner  to  the  commonplace.  The  president  of  the 
Northeastern  stood  where  he  was,  holding  the  envelope 
in  his  hand,  apparently  without  the  power  to  move  or 
speak.  He  watched  the  tall  form  of  his  chief  counsel  go 
through  the  doorway,  and  something  told  him  that  that 
exit  was  coincident  with  the  end  of  an  era. 

The  end  of  an  era  of  fraud,  of  self-deception,  of  con 
ditions  that  violated  every  sacred  principle  of  free  gov 
ernment  which  men  had  shed  blood  to  obtain. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

AN  ADVENTURE   OF  VICTORIA'S 

MRS.  POMFRET  was  a  proud  woman,  for  she  had  at  last 
obtained  the  consent  of  the  lion  to  attend  a  lunch  party. 
She  would  have  liked  a  dinner  much  better,  but  beggars 
are  not  choosers,  and  she  seized  eagerly  on  the  lunch. 
The  two  days  before  the  convention  Mr.  Crewe  was  to 
spend  at  Leith;  having  continual  conferences,  of  course, 
receiving  delegations,  and  discussing  with  prominent  citi 
zens  certain  offices  which  would  be  in  his  gift  when  he 
became  governor.  Also,  there  was  Mr.  Watl ing's  nomi 
nating  speech  to  be  gone  over  carefully,  and  Mr.  Crewe's 
own  speech  of  acceptance  to  be  composed.  He  had  it  in 
his  mind,  and  he  had  decided  that  it  should  have  two 
qualities:  it  should  be  brief  and  forceful. 

Gratitude,  however,  is  one  of  the  noblest  qualities  of 
man,  and  a  statesman  should  not  fail  to  reward  his  faithful 
workers  and  adherents.  As  one  of  the  chiefest  of  these, 
Mrs.  Pomfret  was  entitled  to  high  consideration.  Hence 
the  candidate  had  consented  to  have  a  lunch  given  in  his 
honour,  naming  the  day  and  the  hour;  and  Mrs.  Pomfret, 
believing  that  a  prospective  governor  should  possess  some 
of  the  perquisites  of  royalty,  in  a  rash  moment  submitted 
for  his  approval  a  list  of  guests.  This  included  two  dis 
tinguished  foreigners  who  were  staying  at  the  Leith  Inn, 
an  Englishman  and  an  Austrian,  and  an  elderly  lady  of 
very  considerable  social  importance  who  was  on  a  visit  to 
Mrs.  Pomfret. 

Mr.  Crewe  had  graciously  sanctioned  the  list,  but  took 
the  liberty  of  suggesting  as  an  addition  to  it  the  name  of 
Miss  Victoria  Flint,  explaining  over  the  telephone  to  Mrs. 
Pomfret  that  he  had  scarcely  seen  Victoria  all  summer. 

380 


AN   ADVENTURE   OF   VICTORIA'S  381 

and  that  he  wanted  particularly  to  see  her.  Mrs.  Pomfret 
declared  that  she  had  only  left  out  Victoria  because  her 
presence  might  be  awkward  for  both  of  them,  but  Mr. 
Crewe  waved  this  aside  as  a  trivial  and  feminine  objec 
tion;  so  Victoria  was  invited,  and  another  young  man  to 
balance  the  table. 

Mrs.  Pomfret,  as  may  have  been  surmised,  was  a  woman 
of  taste,  and  her  villa  at  Leith,  though  small,  had  added 
considerably  to  her  reputation  for  this  quality.  Patter 
son  Pomfret  had  been  a  gentleman  with  red  cheeks  and 
an  income,  who  incidentally  had  been  satisfied  with  both. 
He  had  never  tried  to  add  to  the  income,  which  was 
large  enough  to  pay  the  dues  of  the  clubs  the  lists  of 
which  he  thought  worthy  to  include  his  name  ;  large 
enough  to  pay  hotel  bills  in  London  and  Paris  and  at  the 
baths,  and  to  fee  the  servants  at  country  houses;  large 
enough  to  clothe  his  wife  and  himself,  and  to  teach  Alice 
the  three  essentials  of  music,  French,  and  deportment. 
If  that  man  is  notable  who  has  mastered  one  thing  well, 
Patterson  Pomfret  was  a  notable  man:  he  had  mastered 
the  possibilities  of  his  income,  and  never  in  any  year  had 
he  gone  beyond  it  by  so  much  as  a  sole  au  vin  blane  or  a 
pair  of  red  silk  stockings.  When  he  died,  he  left  a  worthy 
financial  successor  in  his  wife. 

Mrs.  Pomfret,  knowing  the  income,  after  an  exhaustive 
search  decided  upon  Leith  as  the  place  to  build  her  villa. 
It  must  be  credited  to  her  foresight  that,  when  she  built, 
she  saw  the  future  possibilities  of  the  place.  The  proper 
people  had  started  it.  And  it  must  be  credited  to  her 
genius  that  she  added  to  these  possibilities  of  Leith  by  bring 
ing  to  it  such  families  as  she  thought  worthy  to  live  in 
the  neighbourhood — families  which  incidentally  increased 
the  value  of  the  land.  Her  villa  had  a  decided  French 
look,  and  was  so  amazingly  trim  and  neat  and  generally 
shipshape  as  to  be  fit  for  only  the  daintiest  and  most  dis 
criminating  feminine  occupation.  The  house  was  small, 
and  its  metamorphosis  from  a  plain  wooden  farm-house 
had  been  an  achievement  that  excited  general  admiration. 
Porches  had  been  added,  and  a  coat  of  spotless  white  relieved 


382  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

by  an  orange  striping  so  original  that  many  envied,  but 
none  dared  to  copy  it.  The  striping  went  around  the  white 
chimneys,  along  the  cornice,  under  the  windows  and  on 
the  railings  of  the  porch :  there  were  window  boxes  gay 
with  geraniums  and  abundant  awnings  striped  white  and 
red,  to  match  the  flowers :  a  high,  formal  hemlock  hedge 
hid  the  house  from  the  road,  through  which  entered  a 
blue-stone  drive  that  cut  the  close-cropped  lawn  and  made 
a  circle  to  the  doorway.  Under  the  great  maples  on  the 
lawn  were  a  tea-table,  rugs,  and  wicker  chairs,  and  the 
house  itself  was  furnished  by  a  variety  of  things  of  a  de 
sign  not  to  be  bought  in  the  United  States  of  America: 
desks,  photograph  frames,  writing-sets,  clocks,  paper- 
knives,  flower  baskets,  magazine  racks,  cigarette  boxes,  and 
dozens  of  other  articles  for  the  duplicates  of  which  one 
might  have  searched  Fifth  Avenue  in  vain. 

Mr.  Crewe  was  a  little  late.  Important  matters,  he 
said,  had  detained  him  at  the  last  moment,  and  he  par 
ticularly  enjoined  Mrs.  Pomfret's  butler  to  listen  care 
fully  for  the  telephone,  and  twice  during  lunch  it  was 
announced  that  Mr.  Crewe  was  wanted.  At  first  he  was 
preoccupied,  and  answered  absently  across  the  table  the 
questions  cf  the  Englishman  and  the  Austrian  about  Amer 
ican  politics,  and  talked  to  the  lady  of  social  prominence 
on  his  right  not  at  all;  nor  to  Mrs.  Pomfret  —  who  excused 
him.  Being  a  lady  of  discerning  qualities,  however,  the 
hostess  remarked  that  Mr.  Crewe's  eyes  wandered  more 
than  once  to  the  far  end  of  the  oval  table,  where  Victoria 
sat,  and  even  Mrs.  Pomfret  could  not  deny  the  attraction. 
Victoria  wore  a  filmy  gown  of  mauve  that  infinitely  be 
came  her,  and  a  shadowy  hat  yvnidh.,  in  the  semi-darkness 
of  the  dining  room,  was  a  wondrous  setting  fcr  her  shapely 
head.  Twice  she  caught  Mr.  Crewe's  look  upon  her  and 
returned  it  amusedly  from  under  her  lashes, — and  once  he 
could  have  sworn  that  she  winked  perceptibly.  What 
fires  she  kindled  in  his  deep  nature  it  is  impossible  to  say. 

She  had  kindled  other  fires  at  her  side.  The  tall  young 
Englishman  had  lost  interest  in  American  politics,  had 
turned  his  back  upon  poor  Alice  Pomfret,  and  had  forgot- 


AN   ADVENTURE   OF  VICTORIA'S  383 

ten  the  world  in  general.  Not  so  the  Austrian,  who  was 
on  the  other  side  of  Alice,  and  who  could  not  see  Victoria. 
Mr.  Crewe,  by  his  manner  and  appearance,  had  impressed 
him  as  a  person  of  importance,  and  he  wanted  to  know 
more.  Besides,  he  wished  to  improve  his  English,  and 
Alice  had  been  told  to  speak  French  to  him.  By  a  lucky 
chance,  after  several  blind  attempts,  he  awakened  the  in 
terest  of  the  personality. 

"I  hear  you  are  what  they  call  reform  in  America?" 

TJiis  was  not  the  question  that  opened  the  gates. 

"  I  don't  care  much  for  the  word,"  answered  Mr.  Crewe, 
shortly;  "  I  prefer  the  word  progressive." 

Discourse  on  the  word  "  progressive  "  by  the  Austrian  — 
almost  a  monologue.  But  he  was  far  from  being  dis 
couraged. 

"  And  Mrs.  Pomfret  tells  me  they  play  many  detestable 
tricks  on  you  —  yes  ?  " 

"  Tricks  !  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Crewe,  the  memory  of  many 
recent  ones  being  fresh  in  his  mind ;  "  I  should  say  so. 
Do  you  know  what  a  caucus  is  ?  " 

"Caucus  —  caucus?  It  brings  something  to  my  head. 
Ah,  I  have  seen  a  picture  of  it,  in  some  English  book. 
A  very  funny  picture  — it  is  in  fun,  yes  ?  " 

"A  picture?"  said  Mr.  Crewe.     "Impossible!" 

"  But  no,"  said  the  Austrian,  earnestly,  with  one  finger 
to  his  temples.  "  It  is  a  funny  picture,  I  know.  I  cannot 
recall.  But  the  word  caucus  I  remember.  That  is  a 
droll  word." 

"  Perhaps,  Baron,"  said  Victoria,  who  had  been  resist 
ing  an  almost  uncontrollable  desire  to  laugh,  "  you  have 
been  reading  '  Alice  in  Wonderland.' ' 

The  Englishman,  Beatrice  Chillmgham,  and  some  others 
(among  whom  were  not  Mr.  Crewe  and  Mrs.  Pomfret)  gave 
way  to  an  extremely  pardonable  mirth,  in  which  the  good- 
natured  baron  joined. 

"  Ach!  "  he  cried.  "  It  is  so,  I  have  seen  it  in  '  Alice  in 
Wonderland.'  "  Here  the  puzzled  expression  returned  to 
his  face,  "  But  they  are  birds,  are  they  not  ?  " 

Men  whose  minds  are  on  serious  things  are  impatient 


384  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

of  levity,  and  Mr.  Crewe  looked  at  the  baron  out  of  cold, 
reproving  eyes. 

"  No,"  he  said,  "  they  are  not  birds." 

This  reply  was  the  signal  for  more  laughter. 

"  A  thousand  pardons,"  exclaimed  the  baron.  "  It  is  I 
who  am  so  ignorant.  You  will  excuse  me  —  yes  ?  " 

Mr.  Crewe  was  mollified.  The  baron  was  a  foreigner, 
he  had  been  the  object  of  laughter,  and  Mr.  Crewe's 
chivalrous  spirit  resented  it. 

"  What  we  call  a  caucus  in  the  towns  of  this  State,"  he 
said,  "  is  a  meeting  of  citizens  of  one  party  to  determine 
who  their  candidates  shall  be.  A  caucus  is  a  primary. 
There  is  a  very  loose  primary  law  in  this  State,  purposely 
kept  loose  by  the  politicians  of  the  Northeastern  Rail 
roads,  in  order  that  they  may  play  such  tricks  on  decent 
men  as  they  have  been  playing  on  me." 

At  this  mention  of  the  Northeastern  Railroads  the  lady 
on  Mr.  Crewe's  right,  and  some  other  guests,  gave  startled 
glances  at  Victoria.  They  observed  with  surprise  that 
she  seemed  quite  unmoved. 

"  I'll  tell  you  one  or  two  of  the  things  those  railroad 
lobbyists  have  done,"  said  Mr.  Crewe,  his  indignation 
rising  with  the  subject,  and  still  addressing  the  baron. 
"  They  are  afraid  to  let  the  people  into  the  caucuses,  be 
cause  they  know  Pll  get  the  delegates.  Nearly  every 
where  I  speak  to  the  people,  I  get  the  delegates.  The 
railroad  politicians  send  word  to  the  town  rings  to  hold 
4  snap  caucuses '  when  they  hear  I'm  coming  into  a  town 
to  speak,  and  the  local  politicians  give  out  notices  only  a 
day  before,  and  only  to  the  voters  they  want  in  the  caucus. 
In  Hull  the  other  day,  out  of  a  population  of  two  thou 
sand,  twenty  men  elected  four  delegates  for  the  railroad 
candidate." 

"  It  is  corruption ! "  cried  the  baron,  who  had  no  idea 
who  Victoria  was,  and  a  very  slim  notion  of  what  Mr. 
Crewe  was  talking  about. 

"  Corruption  !  "  said  Mr.  Crewe.  "  What  can  you 
expect  when  a  railroad  owns  a  State  ?  The  other  day  in 
Britain,  where  they  elect  fourteen  delegates,  the  editor  of 


AN   ADVENTURE   OF   VICTORIA'S  385 

a  weekly  newspaper  printed  false  ballots  with  two  of  my 
men  at  the  top  and  one  at  the  bottom,  and  eleven  railroad 
men  in  the  middle.     Fortunately  some  person  with  sense 
discovered  the  fraud  before  it  was  too  late." 
"  You  don't  tell  me  !  "  said  the  baron. 
u  And  every  State  and  federal  office-holder  has  been  dis 
tributing  passes  for  the  last  three  weeks." 

"Pass?"  repeated  the  baron.  "  You  mean  they  fight 
with  the  fist  —  so  ?  To  distribute  a  pass  —  so,"  and  the 
baron  struck  out  at  an  imaginary  enemy.  "  It  is  the 
American  language.  I  have  read  it  in  the  prize-fight. 
I  am  told  to  read  the  prize-fight  and  the  base-ball  game." 
Mr.  Crewe  thought  it  obviously  useless  to  continue  this 
conversation. 

"  The  railroad,"  said  the  baron,  "  he  is  the  modern 
Machiavelli." 

"  I  say,"  Mr.   Rangely,  the  Englishman,   remarked  to 
Victoria,  "this  is  a  bit  rough  on  you,  you  know." 
"  Oh,  I'm  used  to  it,"  she  laughed. 

"  Mr.  Crewe,"  said  Mrs.  Pomfret,  to  the  table  at  large, 
"  deserves  tremendous  credit  for  the  fight  he  has  made, 
almost  single-handed.  Our  greatest  need  in  this  country 
is  what  you  have  in  England,  Mr.  Rangely,  —  gentlemen 
in  politics.  Our  country  gentlemen,  like  Mr.  Crewe,  are 
now  going  to  assume  their  proper  duties  and  responsibili 
ties."  She  laid  her  napkin  on  the  table  and  glanced  at 
Alice  as  she  continued  :  "  Humphrey,  I  shall  have  to 
appoint  you,  as  usual,  the  man  of  the  house.  Will  you 
take  the  gentlemen  into  the  library  ?  " 

Another  privilege  of  celebrity  is  to  throw  away  one's 
cigar,  and  walk  out  of  the  smoking  room  if  one  is  bored. 
Mr.  Crewe  was,  in  a  sense,  the  host.  He  indicated  with 
a  wave  of  his  hand  the  cigars  and  cigarettes  which  Mrs. 
Pomfret  had  provided,  and  stood  in  a  thoughtful  manner 
before  the  empty  fireplace,  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets, 
replying  in  brief  sentences  to  the  questions  of  Mr.  Chil- 
lingham  and  the  others.  To  tell  the  truth,  Mr.  Crewe 
was  bringing  to  bear  all  of  his  extraordinary  concen 
tration  of  mind  upon  a  problem  with  which  he  had  been 
2c 


386  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

occupied  for  some  years  past.  He  was  not  a  man,  as  we 
know,  to  take  the  important  steps  of  life  in  a  hurry,  al 
though,  like  the  truly  great,  he  was  capable  of  making  up 
his  mind  in  a  very  brief  period  when  it  was  necessary 
to  strike.  He  had  now,  after  weighing  the  question  with 
the  consideration  which  its  gravity  demanded,  finally  de 
cided  upon  definite  action.  Whereupon  he  walked  out  of 
the  library,  leaving  the  other  guests  to  comment  as  they 
would;  or  not  comment  at  all,  for  all  he  cared.  Like  all 
masterful  men,  he  went  direct  to  the  thing  he  wanted. 

The  ladies  were  having  coffee  under  the  maples,  by  the 
tea-table.  At  some  little  distance  from  the  group  Bea 
trice  Chillingham  was  walking  with  Victoria,  and  it  was 
evident  that  Victoria  found  Miss  Chillingham's  remarks 
amusing.  These  were  the  only  two  in  the  party  who  did 
not  observe  Mr.  Crewe's  approach.  Mrs.  Pomfret,  when 
she  saw  the  direction  which  he  was  taking,  lost  the  thread 
of  her  conversation,  and  the  lady  who  was  visiting  her 
wore  a  significant  expression. 

"  Victoria,"  said  Mr.  Crewe,  "  let's  go  around  to  the 
other  side  of  the  house  and  look  at  the  view." 

Victoria  started  and  turned  to  him  from  Miss  Chilling- 
ham,  with  the  fun  still  sparkling  in  her  eyes.  It  was, 
perhaps,  as  well  for  Mr.  Crewe  that  he  had  not  overheard 
their  conversation ;  but  this  might  have  applied  to  any 
man. 

"  Are  you  sure  you  can  spare  the  time  ?  "  she  asked. 

Mr.  Crewe  looked  at  his  watch  —  probably  from  habit. 

"  I  made  it  a  point  to  leave  the  smoking  room  early," 
he  replied. 

"  We're  flattered  —  aren't  we,  Beatrice  ?  " 

Miss  Chillingham  had  a  turned-up  nose,  and  a  face 
which  was  apt  to  be  slightly  freckled  at  this  time  of 
year  ;  for  she  contemned  vanity  and  veils.  For  fear  of 
doing  her  an  injustice,  it  must  be  added  that  she  was  not 
at  all  bad-looking;  quite  the  contrary !  All  that  can  be 
noted  in  this  brief  space  is  that  Beatrice  Chillingham  was 
—  herself.  Some  people  declared  that  she  was  possessed  of 
the  seven  devils  of  her  sex  which  Mr.  Stockton  wrote  about. 


AN   ADVENTURE   OF  VICTORIA'S  387 

"/'m  flattered,"  she  said,  and  walked  off  towards  the 
tea-table  with  a  glance  in  which  Victoria  read  many  mean 
ings.  Mr.  Crewe  paid  no  attention  either  to  words,  look, 
or  departure. 

"  I  want  to  talk  to  you,"  he  said. 

"  You've  made  that  very  plain,  at  least,"  answered 
Victoria.  "  Why  did  you  pretend  it  was  the  view  ?  " 

"  Some  conventionalities  have  to  be  observed,  I  suppose," 
he  said.  u  Let's  go  around  there.  It  is  a  good  view." 

"  Don't  you  think  this  is  a  little  —  marked  ?  "  asked 
Victoria,  surveying  him  with  her  hands  behind  her  back. 

"  I  can't  help  it  if  it  is,"  said  Mr.  Crewe.  "  Every  hour 
is  valuable  to  me,  and  I've  got  to  take  my  chances  when  I 
get  'em.  For  some  reason,  you  haven't  been  down  at 
Leith  much  this  summer.  Why  didn't  you  telephone  me, 
as  I  asked  you  ?  " 

"  Because  I've  suddenly  grown  dignified,  I  suppose," 
she  said.  "  And  then,  of  course,  I  hesitated  to  intrude 
upon  such  a  person  of  importance  as  you  have  become, 
Humphrey." 

"  I've  always  got  time  to  see  you,"  he  replied.  "  I 
always  shall  have.  But  I  appreciate  your  delicacy.  That 
sort  of  thing  counts  with  a  man  more  than  most  women 
know." 

"  Then  I  am  repaid,"  said  Victoria,  "  for  exercising  self- 
control." 

"I  find  it  always  pays,"  declared  Mr.  Crewe,  and  he 
glanced  at  her  with  distinct  approval.  They  were  skirt 
ing  the  house,  and  presently  came  out  upon  a  tiny  terrace 
where  young  Ridley  had  made  a  miniature  Italian  garden 
when  the  Electric  dividends  had  increased,  and  from  which 
there  WPS  a  vista  of  the  shallows  of  the  Blue.  Here  was 
a  stone  garden-seat  which  Mrs.  Pomfret  had  brought  from 
Italy,  and  over  which  she  had  quarrelled  with  the  customs 
authorities.  Mr.  Crewe,  with  a  wave  of  his  hand,  sig 
nified  his  pleasure  that  they  should  sit,  and  cleared  his 
throat. 

"  It's  just  as  well,  perhaps,"  he  began,  "  that  we  haven't 
had  the  chance  to  see  each  other  earlier.  When  a  man 


388  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

starts  out  upon  an  undertaking  of  the  gravest  importance, 
wherein  he  stakes  his  reputation,  an  undertaking  for  which 
he  is  ridiculed  and  reviled,  he  likes  to  have  his  judgment 
justified.  He  likes  to  be  vindicated,  especially  in  the 
eyes  of  —  people  whom  he  cares  about.  Personally,  I 
never  had  any  doubt  that  I  should  be  the  next  governor, 
because  I  knew  in  the  beginning  that  I  had  estimated 
public  sentiment  correctly.  The  man  who  succeeds  in 
this  world  is  the  man  who  has  sagacity  enough  to  gauge 
public  sentiment  ahead  of  time,  and  the  courage  to  act  on 
his  beliefs.''' 

Victoria  looked  at  him  steadily.  He  was  very  calm, 
and  he  had  one  knee  crossed  over  the  other. 

"  And  the  sagacity,"  she  added,  "  to  choose  his  lieuten 
ants  in  the  fight." 

"  Exactly,"  said  Mr.  Crewe.  "  I  have  always  declared, 
Victoria,  that  you  had  a  natural  aptitude  for  affairs." 

"  I  have  heard  my  father  say,"  she  continued,  still  main 
taining  her  steady  glance,  "  that  Hamilton  Tooting  is  one 
of  the  shrewdest  politicians  he  has  ever  known.  Isn't  Mr. 
Tooting  one  of  your  right-hand  men  ?  " 

"  He  could  hardly  be  called  that,"  Mr.  Crewe  replied. 
"  In  fact,  I  haven't  any  what  you  might  call  4  right-hand 
men.'  The  large  problems  I  have  had  to  decide  for  my 
self.  As  for  Tooting,  he's  well  enough  in  his  way  ;  he 
understands  the  tricks  of  the  politicians — he's  played  'em 
I  guess.  He's  uneducated  ;  he's  merely  a  worker.  You 
see,"  he  went  on,  uone  great  reason  why  I've  been  so 
successful  is  because  I've  been  practical.  I've  taken 
materials  as  I've  found  them." 

"  I  see,"  answered  Victoria,  turning  her  head  and  gazing 
over  the  terrace  at  the  sparkling  reaches  of  the  river.  She 
remembered  the  close  of  that  wintry  afternoon  in  Mr. 
Crewe's  house  at  the  capital,  and  she  was  quite  willing  to 
do  him  exact  justice,  and  to  believe  that  he  had  forgotten 
it  —  which,  indeed,  was  the  case. 

"  I  want  to  say,"  he  continued,  "  that  although  I  have 
known  and  —  ahem  —  admired  you  for  many  years,  Vic 
toria,  what  has  struck  me  most  forcibly  in  your  favour  has 


AN   ADVENTURE   OF   VICTORIA'S  389 

been  your  open-mindedness  —  especially  on  the  great  po 
litical  questions  this  summer.  I  have  no  idea  how  much 
you  know  about  them,  but  one  would  naturally  have  ex 
pected  you,  on  account  of  your  father,  to  be  prejudiced. 
Sometime,  when  I  have  more  leisure,  I  shall  go  into  them 
fully  with  you.  And  in  the  meantime  I'll  have  my  secre 
tary  send  you  the  complete  list  of  my  speeches  up  to  date, 
and  I  know  you  will  read  them  carefully." 

"  You  are  very  kind,  Humphrey,"  she  said. 

Absorbed  in  the  presentation  of  his  subject  (which 
chanced  to  be  himself),  Mr.  Crewe  did  not  observe  that  her 
lips  were  parted,  and  that  there  were  little  creases  around 
her  eyes. 

"  And  sometime,"  said  Mr.  Crewe,  "  when  all  this  has 
blown  over  a  little,  I  shall  have  a  talk  with  your  father. 
He  undoubtedly  understands  that  there  is  scarcely  any 
question  of  my  election.  He  probably  realizes,  too,  that  he 
has  been  in  the  wrong,  and  that  railroad  domination  must 
cease  —  he  has  already  made  several  concessions,  as  you 
know.  I  wish  you  would  tell  him  from  me  that  when  I  am 
governor,  I  shall  make  it  a  point  to  discuss  the  whole  mat 
ter  with  him,  and  that  he  will  find  in  me  no  foe  of  corpo 
rations.  Justice  is  what  I  stand  for.  Temperamentally,  I 
am  too  conservative,  I  am  too  much  of  a  business  man,  to 
tamper  with  vested  interests." 

"I  will  tell  him,  Humphrey,"  said  Victoria. 

Mr.  Crewe  coughed,  and  looked  at  his  watch  once 
more. 

"  And  now,  having  made  that  clear,"  he  said,  "  and 
having  only  a  quarter  of  an  hour  before  I  have  to  leave  to 
keep  an  appointment,  I  am  going  to  take  up  another  sub 
ject.  And  I  ask  you  to  believe  it  is  not  done  lightly,  or 
without  due  consideration,  but  as  the  result  of  some  years 
of  thought." 

Victoria  turned  to  him  seriously  —  and  yet  the  creases 
were  still  around  her  eyes. 

"  I  can  well  believe  it,  Humphrey,"  she  answered.  "  But 
—  have  you  time  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  "I  have  learned  the  value  of  minutes." 


390  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

"  But  not  of  hours,  perhaps,"  she  replied. 

"That,"  said  Mr.  Crewe,  indulgently, 
point  of  view.  A  man  cannot  dally  through  life,  and  your 
kind  of  woman  has  no  use  for  a  man  who  dallies.  First,  I 
will  give  you  my  idea  of  a  woman." 

"  I  am  all  attention,"  said  Victoria. 

"  Well,"  said  Mr.  Crewe,  putting  the  tops  of  his  fingers 
together,  "  she  should  excel  as  a  housewife.  I  haven't  any 
use  for  your  so-called  intellectual  woman.  Of  course,  what 
I  mean  by  a  housewife  is  something  a  little  less  lourgeoise  ; 
she  should  be  able  to  conduct  an  establishment  with  the 
neatness  and  despatch  and  economy  of  a  well-run  hotel. 
She  should  be  able  to  seat  a  table  instantly  and  accurately, 
giving  to  the  prominent  guests  the  prestige  they  deserve. 
Nor  have  I  any  sympathy  with  the  notion  that  makes  a 
married  woman  a  law  unto  herself.  She  enters  voluntarily 
into  an  agreement  whereby  she  puts  herself  under  the  con 
trol  of  her  husband  :  his  interests,  his  career,  his  —  " 

44  Comfort  ?  "  suggested  Victoria. 

"  Yes,  his  comfort  —  all  that  comes  first.  And  his  es 
tablishment  is  conducted  primarily,  and  his  guests  selected, 
in  the  interests  of  his  fortunes.  Of  course,  that  goes  with 
out  saying  of  a  man  in  high  place  in  public  life.  But  he 
must  choose  for  his  wife  a  woman  who  is  equal  to  all  these 
things,  —  to  my  mind  her  highest  achievement,  —  who 
makes  the  most  of  the  position  he  gives  her,  presides  at  his 
table  and  entertainments,  and  reaches  such  people  as,  for 
any  reason,  he  is  unable  to  reach.  I  have  taken  the  pains 
to  point  out  these  things  in  a  general  way,  for  obvious 
reasons.  My  greatest  desire  is  to  be  fair." 

"  What,"  asked  Victoria,  with  her  eyes  on  the  river, 
"  what  are  the  wages  ?  " 

Mr.  Crewe  laughed.  Incidentally,  he  thought  her  pro 
file  very  fine. 

"  I  do  not  believe  in  flattery,"  he  said,  "  but  I  think  I 
should  add  to  the  qualifications  personality  and  a  sense  of 
humour.  I  am  quite  sure  I  could  never  live  with  a  woman 
who  didn't  have  a  sense  of  humour." 

44 1  should  think  it  would  be  a  little  difficult,"  said  Vic- 


AN   ADVENTURE   OF   VICTORIA'S  391 

Itoria,  "  to  get  a  woman  with  the  qualifications  you  enu- 
llmerate  and  a  sense  of  humour  thrown  in." 

"  Infinitely  difficult,"  declared  Mr.  Crewe,  with  more 
ardour  than  he  had  yet  shown.  "  I  have  waited  a  good 
many  years,  Victoria." 

"  And  yet,"  she  said,  "  you  have  been  happy.  You  have 
a  perpetual  source  of  enjoyment  denied  to  some  people." 

"  What  is  that  ?  "  he  asked.  It  is  natural  for  a  man  to 
like  to  hear  the  points  of  his  character  discussed  by  a 
discerning  woman. 

"  Yourself,"  said  Victoria,  suddenly  looking  him  full 
in  the  face.  "  You  are  complete,  Humphrey,  as  it  is.  You 
are  happily  married  already.  Besides,"  she  added,  laugh 
ing  a  little,  "the  qualities  you  have  mentioned — with  the 
exception  of  the  sense  of  humour  —  are  not  those  of  a  wife, 
but  of  a  business  partner  of  the  opposite  sex.  What  you 
really  want  is  a  business  partner  with  something  like  a 
fifth  interest,  and  whose  name  shall  not  appear  in  the 
agreement." 

Mr.  Crewe  laughed  again.  Nevertheless,  he  was  a 
little  puzzled  over  this  remark. 

"  I  am  not  sentimental,"  he  began. 

"  You  certainly  are  not,"  she  said. 

"  You  have  a  way,"  he  replied,  with  a  shade  of  reproof 
in  his  voice,  "  you  have  a  way  at  times  of  treating  serious 
things  with  a  little  less  gravity  than  they  deserve.  I  am 
still  a  young  man,  but  I  have  seen  a  good  deal  of  life,  and 
I  know  myself  pretty  well.  It  is  necessary  to  treat  mat 
rimony  from  a  practical  as  well  as  a  sentimental  point 
of  view.  There  wouldn't  be  half  the  unhappiness  and 
divorces  if  people  took  time  to  do  this,  instead  of  rushing 
off  and  getting  married  immediately.  And  of  course  it 
is  especially  important  for  a  man  in  my  position  to  study 
every  aspect  of  the  problem  before  he  takes  a  step." 

By  this  time  a  deep  and  absorbing  interest  in  a  new 
aspect  of  Mr.  Crewe's  character  had  taken  possession  of 
Victoria. 

"  And  you  believe  that,  by  taking  thought,  you  can  get 
the  kind  of  a  wife  you  want  ?  "  she  asked. 


392  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

"  Certainly,"  he  replied;  "  does  that  strike  you  as 
strange  ?  " 

"  A  little,"  said  Victoria.  "  Suppose,"  she  added  gently, 
"  suppose  that  the  kind  of  wife  you'd  want  wouldn't  want 
you?" 

Mr.  Crewe  laughed  again. 

"  That  is  a  contingency  which  a  strong  man  does  not 
take  into  consideration,"  he  answered.  "  Strong  men  get 
what  they  want.  But  upon  my  word,  Victoria,  you  have 
a  delicious  way  of  putting  things.  In  your  presence  I 
quite  forget  the  problems  and  perplexities  which  beset 
me.  That,"  he  said,  with  delicate  meaning,  "that  is 
another  quality  I  should  desire  in  a  woman." 

"  It  is  one,  fortunately,  that  isn't  marketable,"  she  said, 
"  and  it's  the  only  quality  you've  mentioned  that's  worth 
anything." 

"  A  woman's  valuation,"  said  Mr.  Crewe. 

"  If  it  made  you  forget  your  own  affairs,  it  would  be 
priceless." 

"Look  here,  Victoria,"  cried  Mr.  Crewe,  uncrossing  his 
knees,  "  joking's  all  very  well,  but  I  haven't  time  for  it 
to-day.  And  I'm  in  a  serious  mood.  I  ve  told  you  what 
I  want,  and  now  that  I've  got  to  go  in  a  few  minutes,  I'll 
come  to  the  point.  I  don't  suppose  a  man  could  pay  a 
woman  a  higher  compliment  than  to  say  that  his  proposal 
was  the  result  of  some  years  of  thought  and  study." 

Here  Victoria  laughed  outright,  but  grew  serious  again 
at  once. 

"  Unless  he  proposed  to  her  the  day  he  met  her.  That 
would  be  a  real  compliment." 

u  The  man,"  said  Mr.  Crewe,  impatiently,  "  would  be 
a  fool." 

"  Or  else  a  person  of  extreme  discernment,"  said  Vic 
toria.  "And  love  is  lenient  with  fools.  By  the  way, 
Humphrey,  it  has  just  occurred  to  me  that  there's  one 
quality  which  some  people  think  necessary  in  a  wife, 
which  you  didn't  mention." 

"  What's  that  ?  " 

*'  Love,"  said  Victoria. 


AN   ADVENTURE   OF   VICTORIA'S  393 

"  Love,  of  course,"  he  agreed;  "  I  took  that  for  granted." 

"  I  supposed  you  did,"  said  Victoria,  meekly. 

"  Well,  now,  to  come  to  the  point — "  he  began  again. 

But  she  interrupted  him  by  glancing  at  the  watch  on 
her  gown,  and  rising. 

"  What's  the  matter  ?  "  he  asked,  with  some  annoyance. 

"  The  fifteen  minutes  are  up,"  she  announced.  "  I  can 
not  take  the  responsibility  of  detaining  you." 

"  We  will  put  in  tantalizing  as  another  attractive 
quality,"  he  laughed.  "  I  absolve  you  from  all  responsi 
bility.  Sit  down." 

u  I  believe  you  mentioned  obedience,"  she  answered, 
and  sat  down  again  at  the  end  of  the  bench,  resting  her 
chin  on  her  gloved  hand,  and  looking  at  him.  By  this 
time  her  glances  seemed  to  have  gained  a  visibly  disturb 
ing  effect.  He  moved  a  little  nearer  to  her,  took  off  his 
hat  (which  he  had  hitherto  neglected  to  do),  and  thrust 
his  hands  abruptly  into  his  pockets  —  as  much  as  to  say 
that  he  would  not  be  responsible  for  their  movements 
if  they  were  less  free. 

"Hang  it  all,  Victoria,"  he  exclaimed,  "I'm  a  practical 
man,  and  I  try  to  look  at  this,  which  is  one  of  the 
serious  things  in  life,  in  a  practical  way." 

"  One  of  the  serious  things,"  she  repeated,  as  though 
to  herself. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  "certainly." 

"  I  merely  asked  to  be  sure  of  the  weight  you  gave  it. 
Go  on." 

"  In  a  practical  way,  as  I  was  saying.  Long  ago  I  sus 
pected  that  you  had  most  of  those  qualities." 

"  I'm  overwhelmed,  Humphrey,"  she  cried,  with  her 
eyes  dancing.  "But — do  you  think  I  could  cultivate  the 
rest  ?  " 

"  Oh,  well,"  said  Mr.  Crewe,  "  I  put  it  that  way  because 
no  woman  is  perfect,  and  I  dislike  superlatives." 

"  I  should  think  superlatives  wrould  be  very  hard  to  live 
with,"  she  reflected.  "But  —  dreadful  thought  I — sup 
pose  I  should  lack  an  essential  ?  " 

"  What  —  for  instance  ?  " 


394  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

"  Love  —  for  instance.  But  then  you  did  not  put  it 
first.  It  was  I  who  mentioned  it,  and  you  who  took  it  for 
granted." 

"  Affection  seems  to  be  a  more  sensible  term  for  it,"  he 
said.  "  Affection  is  the  lasting  and  sensible  thing.  You 
mentioned  a  partnership,  a  word  that  singularly  fits  into 
my  notion  of  marriage.  I  want  to  be  honest  with  you, 
and  understate  my  feelings  on  that  subject." 

Victoria,  who  had  been  regarding  him  with  a  curious 
look  that  puzzled  him,  laughed  again. 

"  I  have  been  hoping  you  haven't  exaggerated  them," 
she  replied. 

"  They're  stronger  than  you  think,"  he  declared.  "I  — 
I  never  felt  this  way  in  my  life  before.  What  I  meant  to 
say  was,  that  I  never  understood  running  away  with  a 
woman." 

"  That  does  not  surprise  me,"  said  Victoria. 

"  I  shouldn't  know  where  to  run  to,"  he  proclaimed. 

"Perhaps  the  woman  would,  if  you  got  a  clever  one. 
At  any  rate,  it  wouldn't  matter.  One  place  is  as  good  as 
another.  Some  go  to  Niagara,  and  some  to  Coney  Island, 
and  others  to  Venice.  Personally,  I  should  have  no  par 
ticular  preference." 

"  No  preference!  "  he  exclaimed. 

"  I  could  be  happy  in  Central  Park,"  she  declared. 

"  Fortunately,"  said  Mr.  Crewe,  "  you  will  never  be 
called  upon  to  make  the  trial." 

Victoria  was  silent.  Her  thoughts,  for  the  moment,  had 
flown  elsewhere,  but  Mr.  Crewe  did  not  appear  to  notice 
this.  He  fell  back  into  the  rounded  hollow  of  the  bench, 
and  it  occurred  to  him  that  he  had  never  quite  realized 
that  profile.  And  what  an  ornament  she  Avould  be  to  his 
table! 

"I  think,  Humphrey,"  she  said,  "that  we  should  be 
going  back." 

"  One  moment,  and  I'll  have  finished,"  he  cried.  "  I've 
no  doubt  you  are  prepared  for  what  I  am  going  to  say. 
I  have  purposely  led  up  to  it,  in  order  that  there  might  be 
no  misunderstanding.  In  short,  I  have  never  seen  another 


AN   ADVENTURE   OF  VICTORIA'S  395 

woman  with  personal  characteristics  so  well  suited  for  my 
life,  and  I  want  you  to  marry  me,  Victoria.  I  can  offer 
you  the  position  of  the  wife  of  a  man  with  a  public  career 
—  for  which  you  are  so  well  fitted." 

Victoria  shook  her  head  slowly,  and  smiled  at  him. 

44 1  couldn't  fill  the  position,"  she  said. 

"  Perhaps,"  he  replied,  smiling  back  at  her,  "  perhaps  I 
am  the  best  judge  of  that." 

"  And  you  thought,"  she  asked  slowly,  "  that  I  was  that 
kind  of  a  woman  ?  " 

"  I  know  it  to  be  a  practical  certainty,"  said  Mr.  Crewe. 

"  Practical  certainties,"  said  Victoria,  "  are  not  always 
truths.  If  I  should  sign  a  contract,  which  I  suppose,  as  a 
business  man,  you  would  want,  — to  live  up  to  the  letter  of 
your  specifications,  —  even  then  I  could  not  do  it.  I  should 
make  life  a  torture  for  you,  Humphrey.  You  see,  I  am 
honest  with  you,  too  —  much  as  your  offer  dazzles  me." 
And  she  shook  her  head  again. 

44  That,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Crewe,  impatiently,  44  is  sheer 
nonsense.  I  want  you,  and  I  mean  to  have  you." 

There  came  a  look  into  her  eyes  which  Mr.  Crewe  did 
not  see,  because  her  face  was  turned  from  him. 

44 1  could  be  happy,"  she  said,  44  for  days  and  weeks  and 
years  in  a  hut  on  the  side  of  Sawanec.  I  could  be  happy 
in  a  farm-house  where  I  had  to  do  all  the  work.  I  am  not 
the  model  housewife  which  your  imagination  depicts, 
Humphrey.  I  could  live  in  two  rooms  and  eat  at  an 
Italian  restaurant  —  with  the  right  man.  And  I  am 
afraid  the  wrong  one  would  wake  up  one  day  and  discover 
that  I  had  gone.  I  am  sorry  to  disillusionize  you,  but  I 
don't  care  a  fig  for  balls  and  garden-parties  and  salons. 
It  would  be  much  more  fun  to  run  away  from  them  to  the 
queer  places  of  the  earth  —  with  the  right  man.  And  I 
should  have  to  possess  one  essential  to  put  up  with — great 
ness  and  what  you  call  a  public  career." 

44  And  what  is  that  essential  ?  "  he  asked. 

44  Love,"  said  Victoria.  He  heard  the  word  but  faintly, 
for  her  face  was  still  turned  away  from  him.  44  You've 
offered  me  the  things  that  are  attainable  by  taking 


396  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

thought,  by  perseverance,  by  pertinacity,  by  the  outwit 
ting  of  your  fellow-men,  by  the  stacking  of  coins.  And  I 
want  —  the  unattainable,  the  divine  gift  which  is  bestowed, 
which  cannot  be  acquired.  If  it  could  be  acquired, 
Humphrey,"  she  added,  looking  at  him,  "  I  am  sure  you 
would  acquire  it  —  if  you  thought  it  worth  while." 

"  I  don't  understand  you,"  he  said, — and  looked  it. 

"  No,"  said  Victoria,  "  I  was  afraid  you  wouldn't.  And 
moreover,  you  never  would.  There  is  no  use  in  my  try 
ing  to  make  myself  any  clearer,  and  you'll  have  to  keep 
your  appointment.  I  hesitate  to  contradict  you,  but  I 
am  not  the  kind  of  woman  you  want.  That  is  one  reason 
I  cannot  marry  you.  And  the  other  is,  that  I  do  not  love 
you." 

"You  can't  be  in  love  with  any  one  else  ?  "  he  cried. 

"  That  does  seem  rather  preposterous,  I'll  admit,"  she 
answered.  "  But  if  I  were,  it  wouldn't  make  any  differ 
ence." 

"  You  won't  marry  me  ?  "  he  said,  getting  to  his  feet. 
There  was  incredulity  in  his  voice,  and  a  certain  amount 
of  bewilderment.  The  thing  was  indeed  incredible! 

"  No,"  said  Victoria,  "  I  won't." 

And  he  had  only  to  look  into  her  face  to  see  that  it  was 
so.  Hitherto  nil  desperandum  had  been  a  good  working 
motto,  but  something  told  him  it  was  useless  in  this  case. 
He  thrust  on  his  hat  and  pulled  out  his  watch. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  "  that  settles  it.  I  must  say  I  can't 
see  your  point  of  view  —  but  that  settles  it.  I  must  say, 
too,  that  your  refusal  is  something  of  a  shock  after  what 
I  had  been  led  to  expect  after  the  past  few  years." 

"  The  person  you  are  in  love  with  led  you  to  expect  it, 
Humphrey,  and  that  person  is  —  yourself.  You  are  in 
love  temporarily  with  your  own  ideal  of  me." 

"  And  your  refusal  comes  at  an  unfortunate  time  for 
me,"  he  continued,  not  heeding  her  words,  "  when  I  have 
an  affair  on  my  hands  of  such  magnitude,  which  requires 
concentrated  thcfught.  But  I'm  not  a  man  to  cry,  and 
I'll  make  the  best  of  it." 

"  If   I   thought   it   were   more   than  a  temporary  dis- 


AN   ADVENTURE   OF  VICTORIA'S  397 

appointment,  I  should  be  sorry  for  you,"  said  Victoria. 
"  I  remember  that  you  felt  something  like  this  when  Mr. 
Rutter  wouldn't  sell  you  his  land.  The  lady  you  really 
want,"  she  added,  pointing  with  her  parasol  at  the  house, 
"  is  in  there,  waiting  for  you." 

Mr.  Crewe  did  not  reply  to  this  prophecy,  but  followed 
Victoria  around  the  house  to  the  group  on  the  lawn, 
where  he  bade  his  hostess  a  somewhat  preoccupied  fare 
well,  and  bowed  distantly  to  the  guests. 

"  He  has  so  much  on  his  mind,"  said  Mrs.  Pomfret. 
"  And  oh,  I  quite  forgot  —  Humphrey!  "  she  cried,  calling 
after  him,  "  Humphrey!  " 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  turning  before  he  reached  his  automo 
bile.  "  What  is  it  ?  " 

"  Alice  and  I  are  going  to  the  convention,  you  know, 
and  I  meant  to  tell  you  that  there  would  be  ten  in  the 
party — but  I  didn't  have  a  chance."  Here  Mrs.  Pom- 
fret  glanced  at  Victoria-,  who  had  been  joined  at  once  by 
the  tall  Englishman.  "  Can  you  get  tickets  for  ten  ?  " 

Mr.  Crewe  made  a  memorandum. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  "  I'll  get  the  tickets  —  but  I  don't  see 
what  you  want  to  go  for." 


CHAPTER   XXV 

MOKE   ADVENTURES 

VICTORIA  had  not,  of  course,  confided  in  Beatrice 
Chillingham  what  had  occurred  in  the  garden,  although 
that  lady  had  exhibited  the  liveliest  interest,  and  had 
had  her  suspicions.  After  Mr.  Crewe's  departure  Mr. 
Rangely,  the  tall  young  Englishman,  had  renewed  his 
attentions  assiduously,  although  during  the  interval  in  the 
garden  he  had  found  Miss  Chillingham  a  person  of  dis 
cernment. 

"  She's  not  going  to  marry  that  chap,  is  she,  Miss  Chil 
lingham  ?  "  he  had  asked. 

"No,"  said  Beatrice;  "you  have  my  word  for  it,  she 
isn't." 

As  she  was  leaving,  Mrs.  Pomfret  had  taken  Victoria's 
hand  and  drawn  her  aside,  and  looked  into  her  face  with 
a  meaning  smile. 

"My  dear!"  she  exclaimed,  "he  particularly  asked 
that  you  be  invited." 

"  Who  ?  "  said  Victoria. 

"  Humphrey.  He  stipulated  that  you  should  be 
here." 

"  Then  I'm  very  much  obliged  to  him,"  said  Victoria, 
"  for  I've  enjoyed  myself  immensely.  I  like  your  English 
man  so  much." 

"  Do  you  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Pomfret,  searching  Victoria's 
face,  while  her  own  brightened.  "  He's  heir  to  one  of 
the  really  good  titles,  and  he  has  an  income  of  his  own. 
I  couldn't  put  him  up  here,  in  this  tiny  box,  because  I 
have  Mrs.  Froude.  We  are  going  to  take  him  to  the 
convention  —  and  if  you'd  care  to  go,  Victoria  —  ?  " 

Victoria  laughed. 

398 


MORE  ADVENTURES  399 

"It  isn't  as  serious  as  that,"  she  said.  "  And  I'm 
afraid  I  can't  go  to  the  convention  —  I  have  some  things 
to  do  in  the  neighbourhood." 

Mrs.  Pomfret  looked  wise. 

"  He's  a  most  attractive  man,  with  the  best  prospects. 
It  would  be  a  splendid  match  for  you,  Victoria." 

"  Mrs.  Pomfret,"  replied  Victoria,  wavering  between 
amusement  and  a  desire  to  be  serious,  "  I  haven't  the 
slightest  intention  of  making  what  you  call  a  4  match.' '' 
And  there  was  in  her  words  a  ring  of  truth  not  to  be 
mistaken. 

Mrs.  Pomfret  kissed  her. 

"  One  never  can  tell  what  may  happen,"  she  said. 
"  Think  of  him,  Victoria.  And  your  dear  mother  — 
perhaps  you  will  know  some  day  what  the  responsibility 
is  of  seeing  a  daughter  well  placed  in  life." 

Victoria  coloured,  and  withdrew  her  hand. 

"  I  fear  that  time  is  a  long  way  off,  Mrs.  Pomfret,"  she 
replied. 

"  I  think  so  much  of  Victoria,"  Mrs.  Pomfret  declared  a 
moment  later  to  her  guest;  "she's  like  my  own  daughter. 
But  at  times  she's  so  hopelessly  unconventional.  Why, 
I  believe  Rangely's  actually  going  home  with  her." 

"  He  asked  her  to  drop  him  at  the  Inn,"  said  Mrs. 
Froude.  "  He's  head  over  heels  in  love  already." 

"  It  would  be  such  a  relief  to  dear  Rose,"  sighed  Mrs. 
Pomfret. 

"  I  like  the  girl,"  replied  Mrs.  Froude,  dryly.  "  She 
has  individuality,  and  knows  her  own  mind.  Whoever 
she  marries  will  have  something  to  him." 

"  I  devoutly  hope  so  !  "  said  Mrs.  Pomfret. 

It  was  quite  true  that  Mr.  Arthur  Rangely  had  asked 
Victoria  to  drop  him  at  the  Inn.  But  when  they  reached 
it  he  made  another  request. 

"  Do  you  mind  if  I  go  a  bit  farther,  Miss  Flint  ?  "  he 
suggested.  "  I'd  rather  like  the  walk  back." 

Victoria  laughed. 

"  Do  come,"  she  said. 

He  admired  the  country,  but  he  looked  at  Victoria,  and 


400  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

asked  an  hundred  exceedingly  frank  questions  about 
Leith,  about  Mrs.  Pomfret,  whom  he  had  met  at  his 
uncle's  seat  in  Devonshire,  and  about  Mr.  Crewe  and  the 
railroads  in  politics.  Many  of  these  Victoria  parried,  and 
she  came  rapidly  to  the  conclusion  that  Mr.  Arthur  Rangely 
was  a  more  astute  person  than  —  to  a  casual  observer  — 
he  would  seem. 

He  showed  no  inclination  to  fix  the  limits  of  his  walk, 
and  made  no  protest  as  she  drove  under  the  stone  arch 
way  at  the  entrance  of  Fairview.  Victoria  was  amused 
and  interested,  and  she  decided  that  she  liked  Mr.  Rangely. 

"  Will  you  come  up  for  tea  ?  "  she  asked.  "  I'll  send 
you  home." 

He  accepted  with  alacrity.  They  had  reached  the 
first  turn  when  their  attention  was  caught  by  the  sight 
of  a  buggy  ahead  of  them,  and  facing  towards  them. 
The  horse,  with  the  reins  hanging  loosely  over  the  shafts, 
had  strayed  to  the  side  of  the  driveway  and  was  con 
tentedly  eating  the  shrubbery  that  lined  it.  Inside  the 
vehicle,  hunched  up  in  the  corner  of  the  seat,  was  a  man 
who  presented  an  appearance  of  helplessness  which  struck 
them  both  with  a  sobering  effect. 

"  Is  the  fellow  drunk  ?  "  said  Mr.  Rangely. 

Victoria's  answer  was  a  little  cry  which  startled  him, 
and  drew  his  look  to  her.  She  had  touched  her  horse 
with  the  whip,  and  her  eyes  had  widened  in  real  alarm. 

"  It's  Hilary  Vane  !  "  she  exclaimed.  "I  —  I  wonder 
what  can  have  happened  ! " 

She  handed  the  reins  to  Mr.  Rangely,  and  sprang  out 
and  flew  to  Hilary's  side. 

"Mr.  Vane  !  "  she  cried.  "What's  the  matter?  Are 
you  ill?" 

She  had  never  seen  him  look  so.  To  her  he  had  always 
been  as  one  on  whom  pity  would  be  wasted,  as  one  who 
long  ago  had  established  his  credit  with  the  universe  to 
his  own  satisfaction.  But  now,  suddenly,  intense  pity 
welled  up  within  her,  and  even  in  that  moment  she  won 
dered  if  it  could  be  because  he  was  Austen's  father.  His 
hands  were  at  his  sides,  his  head  was  fallen  forward  a 


MORE  ADVENTURES  401 

little,  and  his  face  was  white.  But  his  eyes  frightened 
her  most ;  instead  of  the  old,  semi-defiant  expression 
which  she  remembered  from  childhood,  they  had  in  them 
a  dumb  suffering  that  went  to  her  heart.  He  looked  at 
her,  tried  to  straighten  up,  and  fell  back  again. 

"  N-nothing's  the  matter,"  he  said,  "  nothing.  A  little 
spell.  I'll  be  all  right  in  a  moment." 

Victoria  did  not  lose  an  instant,  but  climbed  into  the 
buggy  at  his  side  and  gathered  up  the  reins,  and  drew 
the  fallen  lap-robe  over  his  knees. 

"I'm  going  to  take  you  back  to  Fairview,"  she  said. 
"And  we'll  telephone  for  a  doctor." 

But  she  had  underrated  the  amount  of  will  left  in  him. 
He  did  not  move,  though  indeed  if  he  had  seized  the 
reins  from  her  hands,  he  could  have  given  her  no  greater 
effect  of  surprise.  Life  came  back  into  the  eyes  at  the 
summons,  and  dominance  into  the  voice,  although  he 
breathed  heavily. 

"  No,  you're  not,"  he  said ;  "  no,  you're  not.  I'm  going 
to  Ripton  —  do  you  understand?  I'll  be  all  right  in  a 
minute,  and  I'll  take  the  lines." 

Victoria,  when  she  got  over  her  astonishment  at  this, 
reflected  quickly.  She  glanced  at  him,  and  the  light  of 
his  expression  was  already  fading.  There  was  some 
reason  why  he  did  not  wish  to  go  back  to  Fairview,  and 
common  sense  told  her  that  agitation  was  not  good  for 
him  ;  besides,  they  would  have  to  telephone  to  Ripton  for 
a  physician,  and  it  was  quicker  to  drive  there.  Quicker 
to  drive  in  her  own  runabout,  did  she  dare  to  try  to  move 
him  into  it.  She  made  up  her  mind. 

"  Please  follow  on  behind  with  that  trap,"  she  called 
out  to  Rangely ;  "I'm  going  to  Ripton." 

He  nodded  understandingly,  admiringly,  and  Victoria 
started  Hilary's  horse  out  of  the  bushes  towards  the 
entrance  way.  From  time  to  time  she  let  her  eyes  rest 
upon  him  anxiously. 

"  Are  you  comfortable  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  "  yes.  I'm  all  right.  I'll  be  able  to 
drive  in  a  minute." 

2D 


402  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

But  the  minutes  passed,  and  he  made  no  attempt  to 
take  the  reins.  Victoria  had  drawn  the  whalebone  whip 
from  its  socket,  and  was  urging  on  the  horse  as  fast  as 
humanity  would  permit ;  and  the  while  she  was  aware 
that  Hilary's  look  was  fixed  upon  her  —  in  fact,  never  left 
her.  Once  or  twice,  in  spite  of  her  anxiety  to  get  him 
home,  Victoria  blushed  faintly,  as  she  wondered  what  he 
was  thinking  about. 

And  all  the  while  she  asked  herself  what  it  was  that 
had  brought  him  to  this  condition.  Victoria  knew  suffi 
cient  of  life  and  had  visited  hospitals  enough  to  under 
stand  that  mental  causes  were  generally  responsible  for 
such  breakdowns  —  Hilary  had  had  a  shock.  She  remem 
bered  how  in  her  childhood  he  had  been  the  object  of  her 
particular  animosity ;  how  she  used  to  put  out  her  tongue 
at  him,  and  imitate  his  manner,  and  how  he  had  never 
made  the  slightest  attempt  to  conciliate  her  ;  most  people 
of  this  sort  are  sensitive  to  the  instincts  of  children,  but 
Hilary  had  not  been.  She  remembered  —  how  long  ago  it 
seemed  now  !  —  the  day  she  had  given  him,  in  deviltry,  the 
clipping  about  Austen  shooting  Mr.  Blodgett. 

The  Hilary  Vane  who  sat  beside  her  to-day  was  not  the 
same  man.  It  was  unaccountable,  but  he  was  not.  Nor 
could  this  changed  estimate  of  him  be  attributed  to  her 
regard  for  Austen,  for  she  recalled  a  day  only  a  few 
months  since — in  June  —  when  he  had  come  up  to  Fair- 
view  and  she  was  standing  on  the  lawn,  and  she  had 
looked  at  him  without  recognition;  she  had  not,  then, 
been  able  to  bring  herself  to  bow  to  him ;  to  her  childhood 
distaste  had  been  added  the  deeper  resentment  of  Austen's 
wrongs.  Her  early  instincts  about  Hilary  had  been  vin 
dicated,  for  he  had  treated  his  son  abominably  and  driven 
Austen  from  his  mother's  home.  To  misunderstand  and 
maltreat  Austen  Vane,  of  all  people  !  Austen,  whose  con 
sideration  for  his  father  had  been  what  it  had  !  Could  it 
be  that  Hilary  felt  remorse  ?  Could  it  be  that  he  loved 
Austen  in  some  peculiar  manner  all  his  own  ? 

Victoria  knew  now  —  so  strangely — that  the  man  beside 
her  was  capable  of  love,  and  she  had  never  felt  that  way 


MORE  ADVENTURES  403 

about  Hilary  Vane.  And  her  mind  was  confused,  and 
her  heart  was  troubled  and  wrung.  Insight  flashed  upon 
her  of  the  terrible  loneliness  of  a  life  surrounded  by  out 
stretched,  loving  arms  to  which  one  could  not  fly;  scenes 
from  a  famous  classic  she  had  read  with  a  favourite 
teacher  at  school  came  to  her,  and  she  knew  that  she  was 
the  witness  of  a  retribution,  of  a  suffering  beyond  concep 
tion  of  a  soul  prepared  for  suffering,  —  not  physical  suffer 
ing,  but  of  that  torture  which  is  the  meaning  of  hell. 

However,  there  was  physical  suffering.  It  came  and 
went,  and  at  such  moments  she  saw  the  traces  of  it  in  the 
tightening  of  his  lips,  and  longed  with  womanly  intuition 
to  alleviate  it.  She  had  not  spoken  —  although  she 
could  have  cried  aloud ;  she  knew  not  what  to  say.  And 
then  suddenly  she  reached  out  and  touched  his  hand. 
Nor  could  she  have  accounted  for  the  action. 

"  Are  you  in  much  pain?  "  she  asked. 

She  felt  him  tremble. 

"No,"  he  said;  "it's  only  a  spell  —  I've  had  'em  before. 
I  —  I  can  drive  in  a  few  minutes." 

"  And  do  you  think,"  she  asked,  "  that  I  would  allow 
you  to  go  the  rest  of  the  way  alone  ?  " 

"  I  guess  I  ought  to  thank  you  for  comin'  with  me,"  he 
said. 

Victoria  looked  at  him  and  smiled.  And  it  was  an 
illuminating  smile  for  her  as  well  as  for  Hilary.  Suddenly, 
by  that  strange  power  of  sympathy  which  the  unselfish 
possess,  she  understood  the  man,  understood  Austen's 

Eatience  with  him  and  affection  for  him.  Suddenly  she 
ad  pierced  the  hard  layers  of  the  outer  shell,  and  had 
heard  the  imprisoned  spirit  crying  with  a  small  persistent 
voice,  —  a  spirit  stifled  for  many  years  and  starved  —  and 
yet  it  lived  and  struggled  still. 

Yes,  and  that  spirit  itself  must  have  felt  her  own  reach 
ing  out  to  it  —  who  can  say  ?  And  how  it  must  have 
striven  again  for  utterance! 

"  It  was  good  of  you  to  come,"  he  said. 

"  It  was  only  common  humanity,"  she  answered,  touch 
ing  the  horse. 


404  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

"  Common  humanity,"  he  repeated.  "  You'd  have  done 
it  for  anybody  along  the  road,  would  you  ?  " 

At  this  remark,  so  characteristic  of  Hilary,  Victoria 
hesitated.  She  understood  it  now.  And  yet  she  hesi 
tated  to  give  him  an  answer  that  was  hypocritical. 

"  I  have  known  you  all  my  life,  Mr.  Vane,  and  you  are 
a  very  rid  friend  of  my  father's." 

"  Old,"  he  repeated,  "  yes,  that's  it.  I'm  ready  for  the 
scrap-heap  —  better  have  let  me  lie,  Victoria." 

Victoria  started.  A  new  surmise  had  occurred  to  her 
upon  which  she  did  not  like  to  dwell. 

"  You  have  worked  too  hard,  Mr.  Vane  —  you  need  a 
rest.  And  I  have  been  telling  father  that,  too.  You 
both  need  a  rest." 

He  shook  his  head. 

"  I'll  never  get  it,"  he  said.  "  Stopping  work  won't 
give  it  to  me." 

She  pondered  on  these  words  as  she  guided  the  horse 
over  a  crossing.  And  all  that  Austen  had  said  to  her,  all 
that  she  had  been  thinking  of  for  a  year  past,  helped  her 
to  grasp  their  meaning.  But  she  wondered  still  more  at 
the  communion  which,  all  at  once,  had  been  established 
between  Hilary  Vane  and  herself,  and  why  he  was  saying 
these  things  to  her.  It  was  all  so  unreal  and  inexpli 
cable. 

"  I  can  imagine  that  people  who  have  worked  hard  all 
their  lives  must  feel  that  way,"  she  answered,  though 
her  voice  was  not  as  steady  as  she  could  have  wished. 
"  You  —  you  have  so  much  to  live  for." 

Her  colour  rose.  She  was  thinking  of  Austen  —  and 
she  knew  that  Hilary  Vane  knew  that  she  was  thinking 
of  Austen.  Moreover,  she  had  suddenly  grasped  the  fact 
that  the  gentle  but  persistently  strong  influence  of  the 
son's  character  had  brought  about  the  change  in  the 
father.  Hilary  Vane's  lips  closed  again,  as  in  pain,  and 
she  divined  the  reason. 

Victoria  knew  the  house  in  Hanover  Street,  with  its  classic 
porch,  with  its  certain  air  of  distinction  and  stability,  and 
long  before  she  had  known  it  as  the  Austen  residence  she 


MORE  ADVENTURES  405 

remembered  wondering  who  lived  in  it.  The  house  had 
individuality,  and  (looked  at  from  the  front)  almost  per 
fect  proportions;  consciously  it  bespoke  the  gentility  of 
its  builders.  Now  she  drew  up  before  it  and  called  to 
Mr.  Rangely,  who  was  abreast,  to  tie  his  horse  and  ring 
the  bell.  Hilary  was  already  feeling  with  his  foot  for  the 
step  of  the  buggy. 

"I'm  all  right,"  he  insisted;  "I  can  manage  now,"  but 
Victoria  seized  his  arm  with  a  firm,  detaining  hand. 

"  Please  wait,  Mr.  Vane,"  she  pleaded. 

But  the  feeling  of  shame  at  his  helplessness  was  strong. 

"  It's  over  now.  I  —  I  can  walk.  I'm  much  obliged 
to  you,  Victoria  —  much  obliged." 

Fortunately  Hilary's  horse  showed  no  inclination  to  go 
any  farther  —  even  to  the  stable.  And  Victoria  held  on 
to  his  arm.  He  ceased  to  protest,  and  Mr.  Rangely 
quickly  tied  the  other  horse  and  came  to  Victoria's  aid. 
Supported  by  the  young  Englishman,  Hilary  climbed  the 
stone  steps  and  reached  the  porch,  declaring  all  the  while 
that  he  needed  no  assistance,  and  could  walk  alone. 
Victoria  rang  the  bell,  and  after  an  interval  the  door  was 
opened  by  Euphrasia  Cotton. 

Euphrasia  stood  upright  with  her  hand  on  the  knob,  and 
her  eyes  flashed  over  the  group  and  rested  fixedly  on  the 
daughter  of  Mr.  Flint. 

"  Mr.  Vane  was  not  very  well,"  Victoria  explained, 
"and  we  came  home  with  him." 

"  I'm  all  right,"  said  Hilary,  once  more,  and  to  prove  it 
he  stepped  —  not  very  steadily  —  across  the  threshold  into 
the  hall,  and  sat  down  on  a  chair  which  had  had  its  place 
at  the  foot  of  the  stairs  from  time  immemorial.  Euphrasia 
stood  still. 

"  I  think,"  said  Victoria,  "  that  Mr.  Vane  had  better 
see  a  doctor.  Have  you  a  telephone  ?  " 

"  No,  we  haven't,"  "said  Euphrasia. 

Victoria  turned  to  Mr.  Rangely,  who  had  been  a  deeply 
interested  spectator  to  this  scene. 

"  A  little  way  down  the  street,  on  the  other  side,  Dr. 
Tredway  lives.  You  will  see  his  sign." 


406  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

"Yes." 

"  And  if  he  isn't  in,  go  to  the  hospital.  It's  only  a  few 
doors  farther  on." 

"  I'll  wait,"  said  Victoria,  simply,  when  he  had  gone  ; 
"  my  father  will  wish  to  know  about  Mr.  Vane." 

"  Hold  on,"  said  Hilary,  "  I  haven't  any  use  for  a  doc 
tor  —  I  won't  see  one.  I  know  what  the  trouble  is,  and 
I'm  all  right." 

Victoria  became  aware  for  the  first  time  that  Hilary 
Vane's  housekeeper  had  not  moved  ;  that  Euphrasia  Cotton 
was  still  staring  at  her  in  a  most  disconcerting  manner, 
and  was  paying  no  attention  whatever  to  Hilary. 

"  Come  in  and  set  down,"  she  said  ;  and  seeing  Victoria 
glance  at  Hilary's  horse,  she  added,  "  Oh,  he'll  stand  there 
till  doomsday." 

Victoria,  thinking  that  the  situation  would  be  less  awk 
ward,  accepted  the  invitation,  and  Euphrasia  shut  the 
door.  The  hall,  owing  to  the  fact  that  the  shutters  ot 
the  windows  by  the  stairs  were  always  closed,  was  in  semi- 
darkness.  Victoria  longed  to  let  in  the  light,  to  take 
this  strange,  dried-up  housekeeper  and  shake  her  into  some 
semblance  of  natural  feeling.  And  this  was  Austen's 
home  !  It  was  to  this  house,  made  gloomy  by  these  people, 
that  he  had  returned  every  night  !  Infinitely  depressed, 
she  felt  that  she  must  take  some  action,  or  cry  aloud. 

"  Mr.  Vane,"  she  said,  laying  a  hand  upon  his  shoulder, 
"  I  think  you  ought,  at  least,  to  lie  down  for  a  little 
while.  Isn't  there  a  sofa  in  — in  the  parlour  ?  "  she  asked 
Euphrasia. 

"  You  can't  get  him  to  do  anything,"  Euphrasia  replied, 
with  decision;  "  he'll  die  some  day  for  want  of  a  little  com 
mon  sense.  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  he  was  took  off  soon." 

"Oh  !  "  cried  Victoria.  She  could  think  of  no  words 
to  answer  this  remark. 

"  It  wouldn't  surprise  me,"  Euphrasia  continued.  "  He 
fell  down  the  stairs  here  not  long  ago,  and  went  right  on 
about  his  business.  He's  never  paid  any  attention  to 
anybody,  and  I  guess  it's  a  mite  late  to  expect  him  to 
begin  now.  Won't  you  set  down  ?  " 


MORE  ADVENTURES  407 

There  was  another  chair  against  the  low  wainscoting, 
and  Victoria  drew  it  over  beside  Hilary  and  sat  down  in 
it.  He  did  not  seem  to  notice  the  action,  and  Euphrasia 
continued  to  stand.  Standing  seemed  to  be  the  natural 
posture  of  this  remarkable  woman,  Victoria  thought  —  a 
posture  of  vigilance,  of  defiance.  A  clock  of  one  of  the 
Austen  grandfathers  stood  obscurely  at  the  back  of  the 
hall,  and  the  measured  swing  of  its  pendulum  was  all  that 
broke  the  silence.  This  was  Austen's  home.  It  seemed 
impossible  for  her  to  realize  that  he  could  be  the  product 
of  this  environment  —  until  a  portrait  on  the  opposite  wall 
above  the  stairs,  came  out  of  the  gloom  and  caught  her  eye 
like  the  glow  of  light.  At  first,  becoming  aware  of  it 
with  a  start,  she  thought  it  a  likeness  of  Austen  himself. 
Then  she  saw  that  the  hair  was  longer,  and  more  wavy  than 
his,  and  fell  down  a  little  over  the  velvet  collar  of  a  coat 
with  a  wide  lapel  and  brass  buttons,  and  that  the  original 
of  this  portrait  had  worn  a  stock.  The  face  had  not  quite 
the  strength  of  Austen's,  she  thought,  but  a  wondrous 
sweetness  and  intellect  shone  from  it,  like  an  expression  she 
had  seen  on  his  face.  The  chin  rested  on  the  hand,  —  an 
intellectual  hand,  —  and  the  portrait  brought  to  her  mind 
that  of  a  young  English  statesman  she  had  seen  in  the 
National  Gallery  in  London. 

"  That's  Channing  Austen,  — he  was  minister  to  Spain." 

Victoria  started.  It  was  Euphrasia  who  was  speaking, 
and  unmistakable  pride  was  in  her  voice. 

Fortunately  for  Victoria,  who  would  not  in  the  least 
have  known  what  to  reply,  steps  were  heard  on  the  porch, 
and  Euphrasia  opened  the  door.  Mr.  Raiigely  had  returned. 

"Here's  the  doctor,  Miss  Flint,"  he  said,  "and  I'll 
wait  for  you  outside." 

Victoria  rose  as  young  Dr.  Tredway  came  forward. 
They  were  old  friends,  and  the  doctor,  it  may  be  recalled, 
had  been  chiefly  responsible  for  the  preservation  of  the 
life  of  Mr.  Zebulun  Meader. 

"  I  have  sent  for  you,  Doctor,"  she  said,  "  against  in 
structions  and  on  my  own  responsibility.  Mr.  Vane  is  ill, 
although  he  refuses  to  admit  it." 


408  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

Dr.  Tredway  had  a  respect  for  Victoria  and  her  opinions, 
and  he  knew  Hilary.  He  opened  the  door  a  little  wider, 
and  looked  critically  at  Mr.  Vane. 

"  It's  nothing  but  a  spell,"  Hilary  insisted.  "  I've  had 
'em  before.  I  suppose  it's  natural  that  they  should  scare 
the  women-folks  some." 

"  What  kind  of  a  spell  was  it,  Mr.  Vane  ?  "  asked  the 
doctor. 

"  It  isn't  worth  talking  about,"  said  Hilary.  "  You 
might  as  well  pick  up  that  case  of  yours  and  go  home 
again.  I'm  going  down  to  the  square  in  a  little  while." 

"You  see,"  Euphrasia  put  in,  "he's  made  up  his  mind 
to  kill  himself." 

"  Perhaps,"  said  the  doctor,  smiling  a  little,  "  Mr. 
Vane  wouldn't  object  to  Miss  Flint  telling  me  what  hap 
pened." 

Victoria  glanced  at  the  doctor  and  hesitated.  Her 
sympathy  for  Hilary,  her  new  understanding  of  him, 
urged  her  on  —  and  yet  never  in  her  life  had  she  been 
made  to  feel  so  distinctly  an  intruder.  Here  was  the 
doctor,  with  his  case  ;  here  was  this  extraordinary  house 
keeper,  apparently  ready  to  let  Hilary  walk  to  the  square, 
if  he  wished,  and  to  shut  the  door  on  their  backs  ;  and 
here  was  Hilary  himself,  who  threatened  at  any  moment 
to  make  his  word  good  and  depart  from  their  midst. 
Only  the  fact  that  she  was  convinced  that  Hilary  was  in 
real  danger  made  her  relate,  in  a  few  brief  words,  what 
had  occurred,  and  when  she  had  finished  Mr.  Vane  made 
no  comment  whatever. 

Dr.  Tredway  turned  to  Hilary. 

"  I  am   going  to  take  a  mean  advantage  of  you,  Mr.  i 
Vane,"  he  said,  "  and  sit  here  awhile  and  talk  to  you.  j 
Would  you  object  to  waiting  a  little  while,  Miss  Flint  ? 
I  have  something  to  say  to  you,"  he  added  significantly, 
"  and  this  meeting  will  save  me  a  trip  to  Fairview." 

"  Certainly  I'll  wait,"  she  said. 

"You  can  come  along  with  me,"  said  Euphrasia,  "if 
you've  a  notion  to." 

Victoria  was  of  two  minds  whether  to  accept  this  invi- 


MORE   ADVENTURES  409 

tation.  She  had  an  intense  desire  to  get  outside,  but  this 
was  counterbalanced  by  a  sudden  curiosity  to  see  more  of 
this  strange  woman  who  loved  but  one  person  in  the  world. 
Tom  Gaylord  had  told  Victoria  that.  She  followed  Eu- 
phrasia  to  the  back  of  the  hall. 

44  There's  the  parlour,"  said  Euphrasia  ;  44  it's  never  be'n 
used  since  Mrs.  Vane  died,  —  but  there  it  is." 

44  Oh,"  said  Victoria,  with  a  glance  into  the  shadowy 
depths  of  the  room,  44  please  don't  open  it  for  me.  Can't 
we  go,"  she  added,  with  an  inspiration,  44  can't  we  go 
into  —  the  kitchen?  "  She  knew  it  was  Euphrasia's  place. 

44  Well,"  said  Euphrasia,  44 1  shouldn't  have  thought 
you'd  care  much  about  kitchens."  And  she  led  the  way 
onward,  through  the  little  passage,  to  the  room  where  she 
had  spent  most  of  her  days.  It  was  flooded  with  level, 
yellow  rays  of  light  that  seemed  to  be  searching  the 
corners  in  vain  for  dust.  Victoria  paused  in  the  doorway. 

44  I'm  afraid  you  do  me  an  injustice,"  she  said.  44 I  like 
some  kitchens." 

44  You  don't  look  as  if  you  knew  much  about  'em,"  was 
Euphrasia's  answer.  With  Victoria  once  again  in  the 
light,  Euphrasia  scrutinized  her  with  appalling  frankness, 
taking  in  every  detail  of  her  costume  and  at  length  raising 
her  eyes  to  the  girl's  face.  Victoria  coloured.  On  her 
visits  about  the  country-side  she  had  met  women  of  Eu 
phrasia's  type  before,  and  had  long  ago  ceased  to  be  dis 
mayed  by  their  manner.  But  her  instinct  detected  in 
Euphrasia  a  hostility  for  which  she  could  not  account. 

In  that  simple  but  exquisite  gown  which  so  subtly 
suited  her,  the  creation  of  which  had  aroused  the  artist  in 
a  celebrated  Parisian  dressmaker,  Victoria  was,  indeed,  a 
strange  visitant  in  that  kitchen.  She  took  a  seat  by  the 
window,  and  an  involuntary  exclamation  of  pleasure 
escaped  her  as  her  eyes  fell  upon  the  little,  old-fashioned 
flower  garden  beneath  it.  The  act  and  the  exclamation 
for  the  moment  disarmed  Euphrasia. 

44  They  were  Sarah  Austen's  —  Mrs.  Vane's,"  she  ex 
plained,  44just  as  she  planted  them  the  year  she  died. 
I've  always  kept  'em  just  so." 


410  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

"  Mrs.  Vane  must  have  loved  flowers,"  said  Victoria. 

"  Loved  'em  !  They  were  everything  to  her  —  and  the  j 
wild  flowers,  too.  She  used  to  wander  off  and  spend  \ 
whole  days  in  the  country,  and  come  back  after  sunset  j 
with  her  arms  full." 

"  It  was  nature  she  loved,"  said  Victoria,  in  a  low  voice.  ; 

"  That  was  it  —  nature,"  said  Euphrasia.     "  She  loved  j 
all  nature.     There   wasn't  a  living,  creeping  thing  that  j 
wahn't  her  friend.     I've  seen  birds  eat  out  of  her  hand  in  j 
that  window  where  you're  settin',  and  she'd  say  to  me, 
4  Phrasie,  keep  still !     They'd  love  you,  too,  if  they  only 
knew  you,  but  they're  afraid  you'll  scrub  'em  if  you  get 
hold  of  them,  the  way  you  used  to  scrub  me." 

Victoria  smiled  —  but  it  was  a  smile  that  had  tears  in 
it.  Euphrasia  Cotton  was  standing  in  the  shaft  of  sun 
light  at  the  other  window,  staring  at  the  little  garden. 

"  Yes,  she  used  to  say  funny  things  like  that,  to  make 
you  laugh  when  you  were  all  ready  to  cry.  There 
wahn't  many  folks  understood  her.  She  knew  every 
path  and  hilltop  within  miles  of  here,  and  every  brook 
and  spring,  and  she  used  to  talk  about  that  mountain 
just  as  if  it  was  alive." 

Victoria  caught  her  breath. 

"  Yes,"  continued  Euphrasia,  "  the  mountain  was  alive 
for  her.  '  He's  angry  to-day,  Phrasie.  That's  because 
you  lost  your  temper  and  scolded  Hilary.'  It's  a  queer 
thing,  but  there  have  been  hundreds  of  times  since  when 
he  needed  scoldin'  bad,  and  I've  looked  at  the  mountain 
and  held  my  tongue.  It  was  just  as  if  I  saw  her  with 
that  half-whimsical,  half-reproachful  expression  in  her 
eyes,  holding  up  her  finger  at  me.  And  there  were  other 
mornings  when  she'd  say,  4  The  mountain's  lonesome  to 
day,  he  wants  me.'  And  I  vow,  I'd  look  at  the  mountain 
and  it  would  seem  lonesome.  That  sounds  like  nonsense, 
don't  it?  "  Euphrasia  demanded,  with  a  sudden  sharpness. 

"  No,"  said  Victoria,  "it  seems  very  real  to  me." 

The  simplicity,  the  very  ring  of  truth,  and  above  all  the 
absolute  lack  of  self-consciousness  in  the  girl's  answer  sus 
tained  the  spell. 


MORE  ADVENTURES  411 

"  She'd  go  when  the  mountain  called  her,  it  didn't  make 
any  difference  whether  it  was  raining  —  rain  never  ap 
peared  to  do  her  any  hurt.  Nothin'  natural  ever  did  her 
any  hurt.  When  she  was  a  little  child  flittin'  about  like 
a  wild  creature,  and  she'd  come  in  drenched  to  the  skin,  it 
was  all  I  could  do  to  catch  her  and  change  her  clothes. 
She'd  laugh  at  me.  4  We're  meant  to  be  wet  once  in  a 
while,  Phrasie,'  she'd  say;  ;  that's  what  the  rain's  for,  to  wet 
us.  It  washes  some  of  the  wickedness  out  of  us. '  It  was  the 
unnatural  things  that  hurt  her  —  the  unkind  words  and 
makin'  her  act  against  her  nature.  '  Phrasie,'  she  said 
once,  '  I  can't  pray  in  the  meeting-house  with  my  eyes 
shut  —  I  can't,  I  can't.  I  seem  to  know  what  they're 
all  wishing  for  when  they  pray,  —  for  more  riches,  and 
more  comfort,  and  more  security,  and  more  importance. 
And  God  is  such  a  long  way  off.  I  can't  feel  Him,  and 
the  pew  hurts  my  back.'  She  used  to  read  me  some,  out 
of  a  book  of  poetry,  and  one  verse  I  got  by  heart  —  I  guess 
her  prayers  were  like  that." 

"  Do  you  —  remember  the  verse  ?  "  asked  Victoria. 

Euphrasia  went  to  a  little  shelf  in  the  corner  of  the 
kitchen  and  produced  a  book,  which  she  opened  and 
handed  to  Victoria. 

"  There's  the  verse  !  "  she  said  ;  "  read  it  aloud.  I  guess 
you're  better  at  that  than  I  am." 

And  Victoria  read :  — 

"  Higher  still  and  higher 

From  the  earth  thou  springest 
Like  a  cloud  of  fire  ; 

The  blue  deep  thou  wingest, 
A  nd  singing  still  dost  soar,  and  soaring  ever  singest." 

Victoria  let  fall  the  volume  on  her  lap. 
"  There's  another  verse  in  that  book  she  liked,"  said 
Euphrasia,  "but  it  always  was  sad  to  me." 
Victoria  took  the  book,  and  read  again :  — 

"Weary  wind,  who  wanderest 

Like  the  world's  rejected  guest, 
Hast  thou  still  some  secret  nest 
On  the  tree  or  billow  f  " 


412  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

Euphrasia  laid  the  volume  tenderly  on  the  shelf,  and 
turned  and  faced  Victoria. 

"  She  was  unhappy  like  that  before  she  died,"  she  ex 
claimed,  and  added,  with  a  fling  of  her  head  towards  the 
front  of  the  house,  "  He  killed  her." 

"  Oh,  no  !  "  cried  Victoria,  involuntarily  rising  to  her 
feet.  "  Oh,  no  !  I'm  sure  he  didn't  mean  to.  He  didn't 
understand  her  !  " 

"  He  killed  her,"  Euphrasia  repeated.  "  Why  didn't  he 
understand  her  ?  She  was  just  as  simple  as  a  child,  and 
just  as  trusting,  and  just  as  loving.  He  made  her  unhappy, 
and  now  he's  driven  her  son  out  of  her  house,  and  made 
him  unhappy.  He's  all  of  her  I  have  left,  and  I  won't  see 
him  unhappy." 

Victoria  summoned  her  courage. 

"Don't    you   think,"    she    asked    bravely,    "that    Mr. 

Austen  Vane  ought  to  be  told  that  his  father  is in  this 

condition  ?  " 

"No,"  said  Euphrasia,  determinedly.  "Hilary  will 
have  to  send  for  him.  This  time  it'll  be  Austen's  victory." 

"  But  hasn't  he  had  —  a  victory  ?  "  Victoria  persisted 
earnestly.  "  Isn't  this  —  victory  enough  ?  " 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  Euphrasia  cried  sharply. 

"  I  mean,"  she  answered,  in  a  low  voice,  "  I  mean  that 
Mr.  Vane's  son  is  responsible  for  his  condition  to-day. 
Oh  —  not  consciously  so.  But  the  cause  of  this  trouble  is 
mental  —  can't  3^011  see  it?  The  cause  of  this  trouble  is 
remorse.  Can't  you  see  that  it  has  eaten  into  his  soul? 
Dp  you  wish  a  greater  victory  than  this,  or  a  sadder  one  ? 
Hilary  Vane  will  not  ask  for  his  son  —  because  he  cannot. 
He  has  no  more  power  to  send  that  message  than  a  man 
shipwrecked  on  an  island.  He  can  only  'give  signals  of 
distress  —  that  some  may  heed.  Would  she  have  waited 
for  such  a  victory  as  you  demand  ?  And  does  Austen 
Vane  desire  it  ?  Don't  you  think  that  he  would  come  to 
his  father  if  he  knew  ?  And  have  you  any  right  to  keep 
the  news  from  him  ?  Have  you  any  right  to  decide  what 
their  vengeance  shall  be  ?  " 

Euphrasia  had  stood  mute   as   she  listened    to    these 


MORE   ADVENTURES  413 

words  which  she  had  so  little  expected,  but  her  eyes  flashed 
and  her  breath  came  quickly.  Never  had  she  been  so 
spoken  to  !  Never  had  any  living  soul  come  between  her 
and  her  cherished  object  —  the  breaking  of  the  heart  of 
Hilary  Vane  !  Nor,  indeed,  had  that  object  ever  been  so 
plainly  set  forth  as  Victoria  had  set  it  forth.  And  this 
woman  who  dared  to  do  this  had  herself  brought  unhappi- 
ness  to  Austen.  Euphrasia  had  almost  forgotten  that, 
such  had  been  the  strange  harmony  of  their  communion. 

"  Have  you  the  right  to  tell  Austen  ?  "  she  demanded. 

"  Have  I  ?  "  Victoria  repeated.  And  then,  as  the  full 
meaning  of  the  question  came  to  her,  the  colour  flooded 
into  her  face,  and  she  would  have  fled,  if  she  could, 
but  Euphrasia's  words  came  in  a  torrent. 

"  You've  made  him  unhappy,  as  well  as  Hilary.  He 
loves  you  —  but  he  wouldn't  speak  of  it  to  you.  Oh,  no, 
he  didn't  tell  me  who  it  was,  but  I  never  rested  till  I  found 
out.  He  never  would  have  told  me  about  it  at  all,  or  any 
body  else,  but  that  I  guessed  it.  I  saw  he  was  unhappy, 
and  I  calculated  it  wasn't  Hilary  alone  made  him  so.  One 
night  he  came  in  here,  and  I  knew  all  at  once  —  somehow 
-  there  was  a  woman  to  blame,  and  I  asked  him,  and  he 
couldn't  lie  to  me.  He  said  it  wasn't  anybody's  fault  but 
his  own  —  he  wouldn't  say  any  more  than  that,  except  that 
he  hadn't  spoken  to  her.  I  always  expected  the  time  was 
coming  when  there  would  be  —  a  woman.  And  I  never 
thought  the  woman  lived  that  he'd  love  who  wouldn't  love 
him.  I  can't  see  how  any  woman  could  help  lovin'  him. 

"  And  then  I  found  out  it  was  that  railroad.  It  came 
between  Sarah  Austen  and  her  happiness,  and  now  it's 
come  between  Austen  and  his.  Perhaps  you  don't  love 
him  !  "  cried  Euphrasia.  "  Perhaps  you're  too  rich  and  high 
and  mighty.  Perhaps  you're  a-going  to  marry  that  fine  young 
man  who  came  with  you  in  the  buggy.  Since  I  heard  who 
you  was,  I  haven't  had  a  happy  hour.  Let  me  tell  you 
there's  no  better  blood  in  the  land  than  the  Austen  blood. 
I  won't  mention  the  Vanes.  If  you've  led  him  on,  if  you've 
deceived  him,  I  hope  you  may  be  unhappy  as  Sarah  Austen 
was  —  " 


414  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

"  Don't ! "  pleaded  Victoria  ;  «  don't !  Please  don't !  " 
and  she  seized  Euphrasia  by  the  arms,  as  though  seeking 
by  physical  force  to  stop  the  intolerable  flow  of  words. 
"  Oh,  you  don't  know  me  ;  you  can't  understand  me  if  you 
say  that.  How  can  you  be  so  cruel  ?  " 

In  another  moment  she  had  gone,  leaving  Euphrasia 
standing  in  the  middle  of  the  floor,  staring  after  her  through 
the  doorway. 


CHAPTER   XXVI 


THE  FOCUS   OF   WRATH 

VICTORIA,  after  leaving  Euphrasia,  made  her  way 
around  the  house  towards  Mr.  Raiigely,  who  was  wait 
ing  in  the  runabout,  her  one  desire  for  the  moment  being 
to  escape.  Before  she  had  reached  the  sidewalk  under 
the  trees,  Dr.  Tredway  had  interrupted  her. 

"  Miss  Flint,"  he  called  out,  "  I  wanted  to  say  a  word 
to  you  before  you  went." 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  stopping  and  turning  to  him. 

He  paused  a  moment  before  speaking,  as  he  looked  into 
her  face. 

"I  don't  wonder  this  has  upset  you  a  litf ''-:•,"  he  said; 
"  a  reaction  always  comes  afterwards  —  even  with  the 
strongest  of  us." 

"  I  am  all  right,"  she  replied,  unconsciously  repeating 
Hilary's  words.  "  How  is  Mr.  Vane  ?  " 

"You  have  done  a  splendid  thing,"  said  the  doctor, 
gravely.  And  he  continued,  after  a  moment :  "  It  is  Mr. 
Vane  I  wanted  to  speak  to  you  about.  He  is  an  intimate 
friend,  I  believe,  of  your  father's,  as  well  as  Mr.  Flint's 
right-hand  man  in  —  in  a  business  way  in  this  State.  Mr. 
Vane  himself  will  not  listen  to  reason.  I  have  told  him 
plainly  that  if  he  does  not  drop  all  business  at  once,  the 
chances  are  ten  to  one  that  he  will  forfeit  his  life  very 
shortly.  I  understand  that  there  is  a  —  a  convention  to 
be  held  at  the  capital  the  day  after  to-morrow,  and  that 
it  is  Mr.  Vane's  firm  intention  to  attend  it.  I  take  the 
liberty  of  suggesting  that  you  lay  these  facts  before  your 
father,  as  Mr.  Flint  probably  has  more  influence  with 
Hilary  Vane  than  any  other  man.  However,"  he  added, 
seeing  Victoria  hesitate,  "  if  there  is  any  reason  why  you 
should  not  care  to  speak  to  Mr.  Flint  —  " 

415 


416  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

"  Oh,  no,"  said  Victoria;  "  I'll  speak  to  him,  certainly. 
I  was  going  to  ask  you  —  have  you  thought  of  Mr. 
Austen  Vane?  He  might  be  able  to  do  something." 

"  Of  course,"  said  the  doctor,  after  a  moment,  "  it  is  an 
open  secret  that  Austen  and  his  father  have  —  have,  in 
short,  never  agreed.  They  are  not  now  on  speaking  terms." 

"Don't  you  think,"  asked  Victoria,  summoning  her 
courage,  "  that  Austen  Vane  ought  to  be  told  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  the  doctor  repeated  decidedly,  "  I  am  sure  of  it. 
Everybody  who  knows  Austen  Vane  as  I  do  has  the 
greatest  admiration  for  him.  You  probably  remember 
him  in  that  Meader  case,  —  he  isn't  a  man  one  would  be 
likely  to  forget,  —  and  I  know  that  this  quarrel  with  his 
father  isn't  of  Austen's  seeking." 

"  Oughtn't  he  to  be  told  —  at  once  ?  "  said  Victoria. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  doctor;  "time  is  valuable,  and  we  can't 
predict  what  Hilary  will  do.  At  any  rate,  Austen  ought 
to  know  —  but  the  trouble  is,  he's  at  Jenney's  farm. 
I  met  him  m  the  way  out  there  just  before  your  friend 
the  Englishman  caught  me.  And  unfortunately  I  have  a 
case  which  I  cannot  neglect.  But  I  can  send  word  to 
him." 

"I  know  where  Jenney's  farm  is,"  said  Victoria;  "I'll 
drive  home  that  way." 

"  Well,"  exclaimed  Dr.  Tredway,  heartily,  "  that's  good 
of  you.  Somebody  who  knows  Hilary's  situation  ought 
to  see  him,  and  I  can  think  of  no  better  messenger  than 
you." 

And  he  helped  her  into  the  runabout. 

Young  Mr.  Rangely  being  a  gentleman,  he  refrained 
from  asking  Victoria  questions  on  the  drive  out  of 
Ripton,  and  expressed  the  greatest  willingness  to  ac 
company  her  on  this  errand  and  to  see  her  home  after 
wards.  He  had  been  deeply  impressed,  but  he  felt 
instinctively  that  after  such  a  serious  occurrence,  this  was 
not  the  time  to  continue  to  give  hints  of  his  admiration. 
He  had  heard  in  England  that  many  American  women 
whom  he  would  be  likely  to  meet  socially  were  super 
ficial  and  pleasure-loving ;  and  Arthur  Rangely  came  of 


THE  FOCUS   OF   WRATH  417 

a  family  which  had  long  been  cited  as  a  vindication 
of  a  government  by  aristocracy,  —  a  family  which  had 
never  shirked  responsibilities.  It  is  not  too  much  to  say 
that  he  had  pictured  Victoria  among  his  future  tenantry ; 
she  had  appealed  to  him  first  as  a  woman,  but  the  in 
cident  of  the  afternoon  had  revealed  her  to  him,  as  it 
were,  under  fire. 

They  spoke  quietly  of  places  they  both  had  visited,  of 
people  whom  they  knew  in  common,  until  they  came  to 
the  hills  —  the  very  threshold  of  Paradise  on  that  Sep 
tember  evening.  Those  hills  never  failed  to  move  Vic 
toria,  and  they  were  garnished  this  evening  in  no  earthly 
colours,  —  rose-lighted  on  the  billowy  western  pasture 
slopes  and  pearl  in  the  deep  clefts  of  the  streams,  and 
the  lordly  form  of  Sawanec  shrouded  in  indigo  against 

flame  of  orange.  And  orange  fainted,  by  the  subtlest 
of  colour  changes,  to  azure  in  which  swam,  so  confidently, 
a  silver  evening  star. 

In  silence  they  drew  up  before  Mr.  Jenney's  ancestral 
trees,  and  through  the  deepening  shadows  beneath  these 
the  windows  of  the  farm-house  glowed  with  welcoming 
light.  At  Victoria's  bidding  Mr.  Rangely  knocked  to 
ask  for  Austen  Vane,  and  Austen  himself  answered  the 
summons.  He  held  a  book  in  his  hand,  and  as  Rangely 
spoke  she  saw  Austen's  look  turn  quickly  to  her,  and 
met  it  through  the  gathering  gloom  between  them.  In 
an  instant  he  was  at  her  side,  looking  up  questioningly 
into  her  face,  and  the  telltale  blood  leaped  into  hers. 
What  must  he  think  of  her  for  coming  again  ?  She  could 
not  speak  of  her  errand  too  quickly. 

"Mr.  Vane,  I  came  to  leave  a  message." 

"  Yes  ?  "  he  said,  and  glanced  at  the  broad-shouldered, 
well-groomed  figure  of  Mr.  Rangely,  who  was  standing  at 
a  discreet  distance. 

"  Your  father  has  had  an  attack  of  some  kind,  —  please 
don't  be  alarmed,  he  seems  to  be  recovered  now,  —  and 
I  thought  and  Dr.  Tredway  thought  you  ought  to  know 
about  it.  The  doctor  could  not  leave  Ripton,  and  I 
offered  to  come  and  tell  you." 

2E 


418  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

"  An  attack  ?  "  he  repeated. 

"  Yes."  And  she  related  simply  how  she  Lad  found 
Hilary  at  Fairview,  and  how  she  had  driven  him  home. 
But,  during  the  whole  of  her  recital,  she  could  not  rid 
herself  of  the  apprehension  that  he  was  thinking  her  inter 
ference  unwarranted,  her  coming  an  indelicate  repetition 
of  the  other  visit.  As  he  stood  there  listening  in  the 
gathering  dusk,  she  could  not  tell  from  his  face  what  he 
thought.  His  expression,  when  serious,  had  a  determined, 
combative,  almost  grim  note  in  it,  which  came  from  a 
habit  he  had  of  closing  his  jaw  tightly;  and  his  eyes  were 
like  troubled  skies  through  which  there  trembled  an 
occasional  flash  of  light. 

Victoria  had  never  felt  his  force  so  strongly  as  now, 
and  never  had  he  seemed  more  distant;  at  times  —  she  had 
thought — she  had  had  glimpses  of  his  soul;  to-night  he  was 
inscrutable,  and  never  had  she  realized  the  power  (which  she 
had  known  he  must  possess)  of  making  himself  so.  And 
to  her  ?  Her  pride  forbade  her  recalling  at  that  moment 
the  confidences  which  had  passed  between  them  and 
which  now  seemed  to  have  been  so  impossible.  He  was 
serious  because  he  was  listening  to  serious  news  —  she  told 
herself.  But  it  was  more  than  this  :  he  had  shut  himself 
up,  he  was  impenetrable.  Shame  seized  her  ;  yes,  and 
anger  ;  and  shame  again  at  the  remembrance  of  her  talk 
with  Euphrasia  —  and  anger  once  more.  Could  he  think 
that  she  would  make  advances  to  tempt  his  honour,  and 
risk  his  good  opinion  and  her  own  ? 

Confidence  is  like  a  lute-string,  giving  forth  sweet 
sounds  in  its  perfection;  there  are  none  so  discordant  as 
when  it  snaps. 

Victoria  scarcely  heard  Austen's  acknowledgments  of 
her  kindness,  so  perfunctory  did  they  seem,  so  unlike  the 
man  she  had  known  ;  and  her  own  protestations  that  she 
had  done  nothing  to  merit  his  thanks  were  to  her  quite 
as  unreal.  She  introduced  him  to  the  Englishman. 

"  Mr.  Rangely  has  been  good  enough  to  come  with  me," 
she  said. 

"I've  never   seen  anybody  act  with  more  presence  of 


THE  FOCUS   OF  WRATH  419 

mind  than  Miss  Flint,"  Rangely  declared,  as  he  shook 
Austen's  hand.  "  She  did  just  the  right  thing,  without 
wasting  any  time  whatever." 

"  I'm  sure  of  it,"  said  Austen,  cordially  enough.  But 
to  Victoria's  keener  ear,  other  tones  which  she  had  heard 
at  other  times  were  lacking.  Nor  could  she,  clever  as 
she  was,  see  the  palpable  reason  standing  before  her! 

"  I  say,"  said  Rangely,  as  they  drove  away,  "  he  strikes 
me  as  a  remarkably  sound  chap,  Miss  Flint.  There  is 
something  unusual  about  him,  something  clean  cut." 

"  I've  heard  other  people  say  so,"  Victoria  replied. 
For  the  first  time  since  she  had  known  him,  praise  of 
Austen  was  painful  to  her.  What  was  this  curious  at 
traction  that  roused  the  interest  of  all  who  came  in  contact 
with  him  ?  The  doctor  had  it,  Mr.  Redbrook,  Jabe 
Jenney,  —  even  Hamilton  Tooting,  she  remembered. 
And  he  attracted  women  as  well  as  men  —  it  must  be 
so.  Certainly  her  own  interest  in  him  —  a  man  beyond 
the  radius  of  her  sphere  —  and  their  encounters  had  been 
strange  enough  !  And  must  she  go  on  all  her  life  hear 
ing  praises  of  him  ?  Of  one  thing  she  was  sure  —  who 
was  not  ?  —  that  Austen  Vane  had  a  future.  He  was  the 
type  of  man  which  is  inevitably  impelled  into  places  of 
trust. 

Manly  men,  as  a  rule,  do  not  understand  women.  They 
humour  them  blindly,  seek  to  comfort  them  —  if  they 
weep  —  with  caresses,  laugh  with  them  if  they  have 
leisure,  and  respect  their  curious  and  unaccountable 
moods  by  keeping  out  of  the  way.  Such  a  husband  was 
Arthur  Rangely  destined  to  make  ;  a  man  who  had  seen 
any  number  of  women  and  understood  none,  —  as  won 
drous  mechanisms.  He  had  merely  acquired  the  faculty 
of  appraisal,  although  this  does  not  mean  that  he  was 
incapable  of  falling  in  love. 

Mr.  Rangely  could  not  account  for  the  sudden  access 
of  gayety  in  Victoria's  manner  as  they  drove  to  Fairview 
through  the  darkness,  nor  did  he  try.  He  took  what  the 
gods  sent  him,  and  was  thankful.  When  he  reached 
Fairview  he  was  asked  to  dinner,  as  he  could  not  possibly 


420  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

get  back  to  the  Inn  in  time.  Mr.  Flint  had  gone  to 
Sumner  with  the  engineers,  leaving  orders  to  be  met  at 
the  East  Tunbridge  station  at  ten  ;  and  Mrs.  Flint,  still! 
convalescent,  had  dined  in  her  sitting  room.  Victoria 
sat  opposite  her  guest  in  the  big  dining  room,  and  Mr.! 
Rangely  pronounced  the  occasion  decidedly  jolly.  He 
had,  he  proclaimed,  with  the  exception  of  Mr.  Vane's 
deplorable  accident,  never  spent  a  better  day  in  his 
life. 

Victoria  wondered  at  her  own  spirits,  which  were 
feverish,  as  she  listened  to  transatlantic  gossip  about 
girls  she  had  known  who  had  married  Mr.  Rangely's 
friends,  and  stories  of  Westminster  and  South  Africa,  and 
certain  experiences  of  Mr.  Rangely's  at  other  places  than 
Leith  on  the  American  continent,  which  he  had  grown  suffi 
ciently  confidential  to  relate.  At  times,  lifting  her  eyes  toj 
him  as  he  sat  smoking  after  dinner  011  the  other  side  of 
the  library  fire,  she  almost  doubted  his  existence.  He  had 
come  into  her  life  at  one  o'clock  that  day  —  it  seemed 
an  eternity  since.  And  a  subconscious  voice,  heard 
but  not  heeded,  told  her  that  in  the  awakening  from 
this  curious  dream  he  would  be  associated  in  her  mem 
ory  with  tragedy,  just  as  a  tune  or  a  book  or  a  game 
of  cards  reminds  one  of  painful  periods  of  one's  existence. 
To-morrow  the  episode  would  be  a  nightmare  ;  to-night 
her  one  desire  was  to  prolong  it. 

And  poor  Mr.  Rangely  little  imagined  the  part  he  was 
playing  —  as  little  as  he  deserved  it.  Reluctant  to  leave, 
propriety  impelled  him  to  ask  for  a  trap  at  ten,  and  it! 
was  half  past  before  he  finally  made  his  exit  from  thei 
room  with  a  promise  to  pay  his  respects  soon  —  very 
soon. 

Victoria  stood  before  the  fire  listening  to  the  sound  of 
the  wheels  gradually  growing  fainter,  and  her  mind  re 
fused  to  work.  Hanover  Street,  Mr.  Jenney's  farm-house, 
were  unrealities  too.  Ten  minutes  later  —  if  she  had 
marked  the  interval  —  came  the  sound  of  wheels  again, 
this  time  growing  louder.  Then  she  heard  a  voice  in 
the  hall,  her  father's  voice. 


THE   FOCUS   OF   WRATH  421 

"  Towers,  who  was  that  ?  " 

"  A  young  gentleman,  sir,  who  drove  home  with  Miss 
Victoria.  I  didn't  get  his  name,  sir." 

"  Has  Miss  Victoria  retired  ?  " 

"  She's  in  the  library,  sir.  Here  are  some  telegrams, 
Mr.  Flint." 

Victoria  heard  her  father  tearing  open  the  telegrams 
and  walking  towards  the  library  with  slow  steps  as  he 
read  them.  She  did  not  stir  from  her  place  before  the 
fire.  She  saw  him  enter  and,  with  a  characteristic  move 
ment  which  had  become  almost  habitual  of  late,  crush  the 
telegrams  in  front  of  him  with  both  hands. 

"  Well,  Victoria  ?  "  he  said. 

"  Well,  father  ?  " 

It  was  characteristic  of  him,  too,  that  he  should  momen 
tarily  drop  the  conversation,  unravel  the  ball  of  telegrams, 
read  one,  crush  them  once  more,  —  a  process  that  seemed 
to  give  him  relief.  He  glanced  at  his  daughter  —  she  had 
not  moved.  Whatever  Mr.  Flint's  original  character  may 
have  been  in  his  long-forgotten  youth  on  the  wind-swept 
hill  farm  in  Truro,  his  methods  of  attack  lacked  directness 
now  ;  perhaps  a  long  business  and  political  experience 
were  responsible  for  this  trait. 

"  Your  mother  didn't  come  down  to  dinner,  I  suppose." 

"  No,"  said  Victoria. 

"  Simpson  tells  me  the  young  bull  got  loose  and  cut  him 
self  badly.  He  says  it's  the  fault  of  the  Eben  Fitch  you 
got  me  to  hire." 

"  I  don't  believe  it  was  Eben's  fault  —  Simpson  doesn't 
like  him,"  Victoria  replied. 

"  Simpson  tells  me  Fitch  drinks." 

"  Let  a  man  get  a  bad  name,"  said  Victoria,  "  and  Simp 
son  will  take  care  that  he  doesn't  lose  it."  The  unex 
pected  necessity  of  defending  one  of  her  proteges  aroused 
her.  "  I've  made  it  a  point  to  see  Eben  every  day  for  the 
last  three  months,  and  he  hasn't  touched  a  drop.  He's 
one  of  the  best  workers  we  have  on  the  place." 

"  I've  got  too  much  on  my  mind  to  put  up  with  that 
kind  of  thing,"  said  Mr.  Flint,  "  and  I  won't  be  worried 


422  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

here  on  the  place.  I  can  get  capable  men  to  tend  cattle, 
at  least.  I  have  to  put  up  with  political  rascals  who  rob 
and  deceive  me  as  soon  as  my  back  is  turned,  I  have  to 
put  up  with  inefficiency  and  senility,  but  I  won't  have  it 
at  home." 

"  Fitch  will  be  transferred  to  the  gardener  if  you  think 
best,"  she  said. 

It  suddenly  occurred  to  Victoria,  in  the  light  of  a  new 
discovery,  that  in  the  past  her  father's  irritability  had  not 
extended  to  her.  And  this  discovery,  she  knew,  ought  to 
have  some  significance,  but  she  felt  unaccountably  indif 
ferent  to  it.  Mr.  Flint  walked  to  a  window  at  the  far 
end  of  the  room  and  flung  apart  the  tightly  closed  curtains 
before  it. 

"  I  never  can  get  used  to  this  new-fangled  way  of  shut 
ting  everything  up  tight,"  he  declared.  "  When  I  lived 
in  Centre  Street,  I  used  to  read  with  the  curtains  up  every 
night,  and  nobody  ever  shot  me."  He  stood  looking  out 
at  the  starlight  for  a  while,  and  turned  and  faced  her 
again. 

"  I  haven't  seen  much  of  you  this  summer,  Victoria," 
he  remarked. 

"  I'm  sorry,  father.  You  know  I  always  like  to  walk 
with  you  every  day  you  are  here."  He  had  aroused  her 
sufficiently  to  have  a  distinct  sense  that  this  was  not  the 
time  to  refer  to  the  warning  she  had  given  him  that  he 
was  working  too  hard.  But  he  was  evidently  bent  on 
putting  this  construction  on  her  answer. 

"  Several  times  I  have  asked  for  you,  and  you  have  been 
away,"  he  said. 

"  If  you  had  only  let  me  know,  I  should  have  made  it  a 
point  to  be  at  home." 

"  How  can  I  tell  when  these  idiots  will  give  me  any 
rest  ?  "  he  asked.  He  crushed  the  telegrams  again,  and 
came  down  the  room  and  stopped  in  front  of  her.  "  Per 
haps  there  has  been  a  particular  reason  why  you  have 
not  been  at  home  as  much  as  usual." 

"  A  particular  reason  ? "  she  repeated,  in  genuine 
surprise. 


THE  FOCUS   OF  WRATH  423 

"  Yes,"  he  said;  "  I  have  been  hearing  things  which,- to 
put  it  mildly,  have  astonished  me." 

"  Hearing  things  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  he  exclaimed.  "  I  may  be  busy,  I  may  be  har 
assed  by  tricksters  and  bunglers,  but  I  am  not  too  busy  not 
to  care  something  about  my  daughter's  doings.  I  expect 
them  to  deceive  me,  Victoria,  but  I  pinned  my  faith  some 
where.  I  pinned  it  on  you.  On  you,  do  you  understand  ?  " 

She  raised  her  head  for  the  first  time  and  looked  at  him, 
with  her  lips  quivering.  But  she  did  not  speak. 

44  Ever  since  you  were  a  child  you  have  been  everything 
to  me,  all  I  had  to  fly  to.  I  was  always  sure  of  one  gen 
uine,  disinterested  love — and  that  was  yours.  I  was 
always  sure  of  hearing  the  truth  from  your  lips." 

"  Father !  "  she  cried. 

He  seemed  not  to  hear  the  agonized  appeal  in  her  voice. 
Although  he  spoke  in  his  usual  tones,  Augustus  Flint  was, 
in  fact,  beside  himself. 

"  And  now,"  he  said,  "  and  now  I  learn  that  you  have 
been  holding  clandestine  meetings  with  a  man  who  is  my 
enemy,  with  a  man  who  has  done  me  more  harm  than  any 
other  single  individual,  with  a  man  whom  I  will  not  have 
in  my  house  —  do  you  understand  ?  I  can  only  say  that 
before  to-night,  I  gave  him  credit  for  having  the  decency 
not  to  enter  it,  not  to  sit  down  at  my  table." 

Victoria  turned  away  from  him,  and  seized  the  high  oak 
shelf  of  the  mantel  with  both  hands.  He  saw  her  shoulders 
rising  and  falling  as  her  breath  came  deeply,  spasmodically 
—  like  sobbing.  But  she  was  not  sobbing  as  she  turned 
again  and  looked  into  his  face.  Fear  was  in  her  eye,  and 
the  high  courage  to  look  :  fear  and  courage.  She  seemed 
to  be  looking  at  another  man,  at  a  man  who  was  not  her 
father.  And  Mr.  Flint,  despite  his  anger,  vaguely  inter 
preting  her  meaning,  was  taken  aback.  He  had  never 
seen  anybody  with  such  a  look.  And  the  unexpected 
quiet  quality  of  her  voice  intensified  his  strange  sensation. 

44  A  Mr.  Rangely,  an  Englishman,  who  is  staying  at  the 
Leith  Inn,  was  here  to  dinner  to-night.  He  has  never  been 
here  before." 


424  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

"  Austen  Vane  wasn't  here  to-night  ?  " 

"  Mr.  Vane  has  never  been  in  this  house  to  my  know 
ledge  but  once,  and  you  know  more  about  that  meeting 
than  I  do." 

And  still  Victoria  spoke  quietly,  inexplicably  so  to  Mr 
Flint  —  and  to  herself.  It  seemed  to  her  that  some  othe 
than  she  were  answering  with  her  voice,  and  that  she  aloii 
felt.  It  was  all  a  part  of  the  nightmare,  all  unreal,  am 
this  was  not  her  father  ;  nevertheless,  she  suffered  now 
not  from  anger  alone,  nor  sorrow,  nor  shame  for  hin 
and  for  herself,  nor  disgust,  nor  a  sense  of  injustice,  no 
cruelty  —  but  all  of  these  played  upon  a  heart  responsive 
to  each  with  a  different  pain. 

And  Mr.  Flint,  halted  for  the  moment  by  her  look  anc 
manner,  yet  goaded  on  by  a  fiend  of  provocation  whic] 
had  for  months  been  gathering  strength,  and  which  now 
mastered  him  completely,  persisted.     He  knew  not  what 
he  did  or  said. 

"And  you  haven't  seen  him   to-day,    I   suppose,"    he 
cried. 

"  Yes,  I  have  seen  him  to-day." 

"  Ah,  you  have  !     I  thought  as  much.     Where  did  you 
meet  him  to-day  ?  " 

Victoria  turned  half  away  from  him,  raised  a  hand  to 
the  mantel-shelf  again,  and  lifted  a  foot  to  the  low  brass 
fender  as  she  looked  down  into  the  fire.     The  movement 
was  not  part  of  a  desire  to  evade  him,  as  he  fancied  in  his 
anger,  but  rather  one  of  profound  indifference,  of  profounc 
weariness  —  the  sunless  deeps  of  sorrow.    And  he  though 
her  capable  of  deceiving  him  !     He  had  been  her  constan 
companion  from    childhood,    and   knew  only  the  visible 
semblance  of  her  face,  her  form,  her  smile.     Her  sex  was 
the  sex  of  subterfuge. 

"  I  went  to  the  place  where  he  is  living,  and  asked  for 
him,"  she  said,  "and.  he  came  out  and  spoke  to  me." 

"You?"  he  repeated  incredulously.     There  was  surely 
no  subterfuge  in  her  tone,  but  an  unreal,  unbelievable  note 
which  his  senses  seized,  and  to  which  he  clung.     "  You 
My  daughter !  " 


THE  FOCUS   OF   WRATH  425 

"  Yes,"  she  answered,  "  I,  your  daughter.  I  suppose 
you  think  I  am  shameless.  It  is  true  —  I  am." 

Mr.  Flint  was  utterly  baffled.  He  was  at  sea.  He  had 
got  beyond  the  range  of  his  experience ;  defence,  denial, 
tears,  he  could  have  understood  and  coped  with.  He 
crushed  the  telegrams  into  a  tighter  ball,  sought  for  a 
footing,  and  found  a  precarious  one. 

"  And  all  this  has  been  going  on  without  my  know 
ledge,  when  you  knew  my  sentiments  towards  the 
man?" 

"  Yes,"  she  said.  "  I  do  not  know  what  you  include  in 
that  remark,  but  I  have  seen  him  many  times  —  as  many 
times,  perhaps,  as  you  have  heard  about." 

He  wheeled,  and  walked  over  to  a  cabinet  between  two 
of  the  great  windows  and  stood  there  examining  a  col 
lection  of  fans  which  his  wife  had  bought  at  a  famous  sale 
in  Paris.  Had  he  suddenly  been  asked  the  question,  he 
could  not  have  said  whether  they  were  fans  or  beetles. 
And  it  occurred  to  Victoria,  as  her  eyes  rested  on  his 
back,  that  she  ought  to  be  sorry  for  him  —  but  wasn't, 
somehow.  Perhaps  she  would  be  to-morrow.  Mr.  Flint 
looked  at  the  fans,  and  an  obscure  glimmering  of  the 
truth  came  to  him  that  instead  of  administering  a  severe 
rebuke  to  the  daughter  he  believed  he  had  known  all  his 
life,  he  was  engaged  in  a  contest  with  the  soul  of  a  woman 
he  had  never  known.  And  the  more  she  confessed,  the 
more  she  apparently  yielded,  the  more  impotent  he  seemed, 
the  tighter  the  demon  gripped  him.  Obstacles,  embarrass 
ments,  disappointments,  he  had  met  early  in  his  life,  and 
he  had  taken  them  as  they  came.  There  had  followed  a 
long  period  when  his  word  had  been  law.  And  now,  as 
age  came  on,  and  he  was  meeting  with  obstacles  again,  he 
had  lost  the  magic  gift  of  sweeping  them  aside  ;  the  grow 
ing  certainty  that  he  was  becoming  powerless  haunted 
him  night  and  day.  Unbelievably  strange,  however,  it 
was  that  the  rays  of  his  anger  by  some  subconscious 
process  had  hovered  from  the  first  about  the  son  of 
Hilary  Vane,  and  were  now,  by  the  trend  of  event  after 
event,  firmly  focussed  there. 


426  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

He  left  the  cabinet  abruptly  and  came  back  to  Victoria. 
She  was  standing  in  the  same  position. 

"  You  have  spared  me  something,"  he  said.  "  He  has 
apparently  undermined  me  with  my  own  daughter.  He 
has  evidently  given  you  an  opinion  of  me  which  is  his. 
I  think  I  can  understand  why  you  have  not  spoken  of 
these  — meetings." 

"  It  is  an  inference  that  I  expected,"  said  Victoria, 
Then  she  lifted  her  head  and  looked  at  him,  and  again  he 
could  not  read  her  expression,  for  a  light  burned  in  her 
eyes  that  made  them  impenetrable  to  him,  —  a  light  that 
seemed  pitilessly  to  search  out  and  reveal  the  dark  places 
and  the  weak  places  within  him  which  he  himself  had 
not  known  were  there.  Could  there  be  another  stand 
ard  by  which  men  and  women  were  measured  and 
judged? 

Mr.  Flint  snapped  his  fingers,  and  turned  and  began  to 
pace  the  room. 

"  It's  all  pretty  clear,"  he  said ;  "  there's  no  use  going 
into  it  any  farther.  You  believe,  with  the  rest  of  them, 
that  I'm  a  criminal  and  deserve  the  penitentiary.  I  don't 
care  a  straw  about  the  others,"  he  cried,  snapping  his 
fingers  again.  "  And  I  suppose,  if  I'd  had  any  sense,  I 
might  have  expected  it  from  you,  too,  Victoria  —  though 
you  are  my  daughter." 

He  was  aware  that  her  eyes  followed  him. 

"  How  many  times  have  you  spoken  with  Austen 
Vane  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Once,"  he  exclaimed  ;  "  that  was  enough.     Once." 

"And  he  gave  you  the  impression,"  she  continued 
slowly,  "  that  he  was  deceitful,  and  dishonourable,  and  a 
coward  ?  a  man  who  would  say  things  behind  your  back 
that  he  dared  not  say  to  your  face?  who  desired  reward 
for  himself  at  any  price,  and  in  any  manner?  a  man  who 
would  enter  your  house  and  seek  out  your  daughter  and 
secretly  assail  your  character?  " 

Mr.  Flint  stopped  in  the  middle  of  the  floor. 

"  And  you  tell  me  he  has  not  done  these  things  ?  " 

"  Suppose  I  did  tell  you  so,"  said  Victoria,  "  would  you 


"READ  THAT!"  HE  SAID. 


THE  FOCUS  OF  WRATH  427 

believe  me?  I  have  no  reason  to  think  that  you  would. 
I  am  your  daughter,  I  have  been  your  most  intimate  com 
panion,  and  I  had  the  right  to  think  that  you  should 
have  formed  some  estimate  of  my  character.  Suppose  I 
told  you  that  Austen  Vane  has  avoided  me,  that  he  would 
not  utter  a  word  against  you  or  in  favour  of  himself? 
Suppose  I  told  you  that  I,  your  daughter,  thought  there 
might  be  two  sides  to  the  political  question  that  is  agitat 
ing  you,  and  wished  in  fairness  to  hear  the  other  side,  — 
as  I  intended  to  tell  you  when  you  were  less  busy  ?  Sup 
pose  I  told  you  that  Austen  Vane  was  the  soul  of  honour, 
that  he  saw  your  side  and  presented  it  as  ably  as  you 
have  presented  it?  that  he  had  refrained  in  many  matters 
which  might  have  been  of  advantage  to  him  —  although  I 
did  not  hear  of  them  from  him  —  on  account  of  his  father  ? 
Would  you  believe  me?" 

"And  suppose  I  told  you,"  cried  Mr.  Flint  —  so  firmly 
fastened  on  him  was  the  long  habit  of  years  of  talking 
another  down,  "  suppose  I  told  you  that  this  was  the  most 
astute  and  the  craftiest  course  he  could  take  ?  I've 
always  credited  him  with  brains.  Suppose  I  told  you 
that  he  was  intriguing  now,  as  he  has  been  all  along,  to 
obtain  the  nomination  for  the  governorship  ?  Would  you 
believe  me  ?  " 

"  No,"  answered  Victoria,  quietly. 

Mr.  Flint  went  to  the  lamp,  unrolled  the  ball  of  tele 
grams,  seized  one  and  crossed  the  room  quickly,  and  held 
it  out  to  her.  His  hand  shook  a  little. 

"  Read  that  !  "  he  said. 

She  read  it :  "  Estimate  that  more  than  half  of  delegates 
from  this  section  pledged  to  Henderson  will  go  to  Austen 
Vane  when  signal  is  given  in  convention.  Am  told  on 
credible  authority  same  is  true  of  other  sections,  including 
many  of  Hunt's  men  and  Creive's.  This  is  the  result  of 
quiet  but  persistent  political  work  I  spoke  about.  BILLINGS." 

She  handed  the  telegram  back  to  her  father  in  silence. 

"  Do  you  believe  it  now  ?  "  he  demanded  exultantly. 

"  Who  is  the  man  whose  name  is  signed  to  that  mes* 
sage  ?  "  she  asked. 


428  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

Mr.  Flint  eyed  her  narrowly. 

"  What  difference  does  that  make  ?  "  he  demanded. 

"  None,"  said  Victoria.  But  a  vision  of  Mr.  Billings 
rose  before  her.  He  had  been  pointed  out  to  her  as  the 
man  who  had  opposed  Austen  in  the  Meader  suit.  "  If 
the  bishop  of  the  diocese  signed  it,  I  would  not  believe 
that  Austen  Vane  had  anything  to  do  with  the  matter." 

"Ah,  you  defend  him!  "  cried  Mr.  Flint.  "  I  thought 
so  —  I  thought  so.  I  take  off  my  hat  to  him,  he  is  a 
cleverer  man  even  than  I.  His  own  father,  whom  he  has 
ruined,  comes  up  here  and  defends  him." 

"  Does  Hilary  Vane  defend  him  ? "  Victoria  asked 
curiously. 

"Yes,"  said  Mr.  Flint,  beside  himself;  "incredible  as  it 
may  seem,  he  does.  I  have  Austen  Vane  to  thank  for 
still  another  favour  —  he  is  responsible  for  Hilary's  con 
dition  to-day.  He  has  broken  him  down  —  he  has  made 
him  an  imbecile.  The  convention  is  scarcely  thirty-six 
hours  off,  and  Hilary  is  about  as  fit  to  handle  it  as  —  as 
Eben  Fitch.  Hilary,  who  never  failed  me  in  his  life!  " 

Victoria  did  not  speak  for  a  moment,  and  then  she 
reached  out  her  hand  quickly  and  laid  it  on  his  that  still 
held  the  telegram.  A  lounge  stood  on  one  side  of  the 
fireplace,  and  she  drew  him  gently  to  it,  and  he  sat  down 
at  her  side.  His  acquiescence  to  her  was  a  second  nature, 
and  he  was  once  more  bewildered.  His  anger  now  seemed 
to  have  had  no  effect  upon  her  whatever. 

"  I  waited  up  to  tell  you  about  Hilary  Vane,  father," 
she  said  gently.  "He  has  had  a  stroke,  which  I  am 
afraid  is  serious." 

"A  stroke!  "  cried  Mr.  Flint.  "  Why  didn't  you  tell 
me  ?  How  do  you  know  ?  " 

Victoria  related  how  she  had  found  Hilary  coming 
away  from  Fair  view,  and  what  she  had  done,  and  the 
word  Dr.  Tredway  had  sent. 

"Good  God!  "  cried  Mr.  Flint,  "he  won't  be  able  to 
go  to  the  convention  !"  And  he  rose  and  pressed  the 
electric  button.  "  Towers,"  he  said,  when  the  butler 
appeared,  "  is  Mr.  Freeman  still  in  my  room  ?  Tell  him 


THE  FOCUS   OF  WRATH  429 

to  telephone  to  Ripton  at  once  and  find  out  how  Mr. 
Hilary  Vane  is.  They'll  have  to  send  a  messenger. 
That  accounts  for  it,"  he  went  on,  rather  to  himself  than 
to  Victoria,  and  he  began  to  pace  the  room  once  more; 
"  he  looked  like  a  sick  man  when  he  was  here.  And  who 
have  we  got  to  put  in  his  place  ?  Not  a  soul  !  " 

He  paced  awhile  in  silence.  He  appeared  to  have  for 
gotten  Victoria. 

"  Poor  Hilary!  "  he  said  again,  "  poor  Hilary!  I'll  go 
down  there  the  first  thing  in  the  morning." 

Another  silence,  and  then  Mr.  Freeman,  the  secretary, 
entered. 

"  I  telephoned  to  Dr.  Tredway's,  Mr.  Flint.  I  thought 
that  would  be  quickest.  Mr.  Vane  has  left  home.  They 
don't  know  where  he's  gone." 

"Left  home!  It's  impossible!"  and  he  glanced  at 
Victoria,  who  had  risen  to  her  feet.  "  There  must  b^ 
some  mistake." 

"  No,  sir.  First  I  got  the  doctor,  who  said  that  Mr. 
Vane  was  gone  —  at  the  risk  of  his  life.  And  then  I 
talked  to  Mr.  Austen  Vane  himself,  who  was  there  con 
sulting  with  the  doctor.  It  appears  that  Mr.  Hilary 
Vane  had  left  home  by  eight  o'clock,  when  Mr.  Austen 
Vane  got  there." 

"  Hilary's  gone  out  of  his  head,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Flint. 
"  This  thing  has  unhinged  him.  Here,  take  these  tele 
grams.  No,  wait  a  minute,  I'll  go  out  there.  Call  up 
Billings,  and  see  if  you  can  get  Senator  Whitredge." 

He  started  out  of  the  room,  halted,  and  turned  his  head 
and  hesitated. 

"  Father,"  said  Victoria,  "  I  don't  think  Hilary  Vane  is 
out  of  his  mind." 

"  You  don't  ?  "  he  said  quickly.     «  Why  ?  " 

By  some  unaccountable  change  in  the  atmosphere,  of 
which  Mr.  Flint  was  unconscious,  his  normal  relation  to 
his  daughter  had  been  suddenly  reestablished.  He  was 
giving  ear,  as  usual,  to  her  judgment. 

"Did  Hilary  Vane  tell  you  he  would  go  to  the  con 
vention  ?  "  she  asked. 


430  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

"Yes."  In  spite  of  himself,  he  had  given  the  word  an 
apologetic  inflection. 

"  Then  he  has  gone  already,"  she  said.  "  I  think,  if 
you  will  telephone  a  little  later  to  the  State  capital,  you 
will  find  that  he  is  in  his  room  at  the  Pelican  Hotel." 

"  By  thunder,  Victoria!  "  he  ejaculated,  "you  may  be 
right.  It  would  be  like  him." 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

THE   ARENA   AND   THE   DUST 

ALAS  !  that  the  great  genius  who  described  the  battle  of 
Waterloo  is  not  alive  to-day  and  on  this  side  of  the  At 
lantic,  for  a  subject  worthy  of  his  pen  is  at  hand,  —  noth 
ing  less  than  that  convention  of  conventions  at  which  the 
Honourable  Humphrey  Crewe  of  Leith  is  one  of  the  can 
didates.  One  of  the  candidates,  indeed!  Will  it  not  be 
known,  as  long  as  there  are  pensions,  and  a  governor  and 
a  state-house  and  a  seal  and  State  sovereignty  and  a  staff, 
as  the  Crewe  Convention  ?  How  charge  after  charge  was 
made  during  the  long,  hot  day  and  into  the  night;  how  the 
delegates  were  carried  out  limp  and  speechless  and  starved 
and  wet  through,  and  carried  in  to  vote  again,  —  will  all 
be  told  in  time.  But  let  us  begin  at  the  beginning,  which 
is  the  day  before. 

But  look!  it  is  afternoon,  and  the  candidates  are  arriv 
ing  at  the  Pelican.  The  Honourable  Adam  B.  Hunt  is 
the  first,  and  walks  up  the  hill  from  the  station  escorted 
by  such  prominent  figures  as  the  Honourables  Brush  Bas- 
com  and  Jacob  Botcher,  and  surrounded  by  enthusiastic 
supporters  who  wear  buttons  with  the  image  of  their 
leader  —  goatee  and  all — and  the  singularly  prophetic 
superscription,  To  the  Last  Ditch!  Only  veterans  and 
experts  like  Mr.  Bascom  and  Mr.  Botcher  can  recognize 
the  last  ditch  when  they  see  it. 

Another  stir  in  the  street  —  occasioned  by  the  appearance 
of  the  Honourable  Giles  Henderson,  —  of  the  blameless  life. 
Utter  a  syllable  against  him  if  you  can!  These  words 
should  be  inscribed  on  his  buttons  if  he  had  any  —  but  he 
has  none.  They  seem  to  be,  unuttered,  on  the  tongues  of 
the  gentlemen  who  escort  the  Honourable  Giles,  United 

431 


432  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

States  Senator  Greene  and  the  Honourable  Elisha  Jane, 
who  has  obtained  leave  of  absence  from  his  consular  post 
to  attend  the  convention,  —  and  incidentally  to  help 
prepare  for  it. 

But  who  and  what  is  this?  The  warlike  blast  of  a  si 
ren  horn  is  heard,  the  crowd  in  the  lobby  rushes  to  the 
doors,  people  up-stairs  fly  to  the  windows,  and  the  Hon 
ourable  Adam  B.  Hunt  leans  out  and  nearly  falls  out, 
but  is  rescued  by  Division  Superintendent  Manning  of  the 
Northeastern  Railroads,  who  has  stepped  in  from  Number 
Seven  to  give  a  little  private  tug  of  a  persuasive  nature  to 
the  Honourable  Adam's  coat-tails.  A  red  Leviathan  comes 
screaming  down  Main  Street  with  a  white  trail  of  dust  be 
hind  it,  smothering  the  occupants  of  vehicles  which  have 
barely  succeeded  in  getting  out  of  the  way,  and  makes  a 
spectacular  finish  before  the  Pelican  by  sliding  the  last 
fifty  feet  on  locked  rear  wheels. 

A  group  in  the  street  raises  a  cheer.  It  is  the  People's 
Champion!  Dust  coat,  gauntlets,  goggles,  cannot  hide 
him;  and  if  they  did,  some  one  would  recognize  that 
voice,  familiar  now  and  endeared  to  many,  and  so  suited 
to  command :  — 

"  Get  that  baggage  off,  and  don't  waste  any  time  !  Jump 
out,  Watling  —  that  handle  turns  the  other  way.  Well, 
Tooting,  are  the  headquarters  ready  ?  What  was  the  mat 
ter  that  I  couldn't  get  you  on  the  telephone?"  (To  the 
crowd.)  "  Don't  push  in  and  scratch  the  paint.  He's  go 
ing  to  back  out  in  a  minute,  and  somebody '11  get  hurt." 

Mr.  Hamilton  Tooting  (Colonel  Hamilton  Tooting  that 
is  to  be  —  it  being  an  open  secret  that  he  is  destined  for 
the  staff)  is  standing  hatless  on  the  sidewalk  ready  to  re 
ceive  the  great  man.  The  crowd  in  the  rotunda  makes  a 
lane,  and  Mr.  Crewe,  glancing  neither  to  the  right  nor  left, 
walks  upstairs ;  and  scarce  is  he  installed  in  the  bridal 
suite,  surrounded  by  his  faithful  workers  for  reform,  than 
that  amazing  reception  begins.  Mr.  Hamilton  Tooting, 
looking  the  very  soul  of  hospitality,  stands  by  the  doorway 
with  an  open  box  of  cigars  in  his  left  hand,  pressing  them 
upon  the  visitors  with  his  right.  Reform,  contrary  to  the 


THE   ARENA   AND   THE   DUST  433 

preconceived  opinion  of  many,  is  not  made  of  icicles,  nor 
answers  with  a  stone  a  request  for  bread.  As  the  hours  run 
on,  the  visitors  grow  more  and  more  numerous,  and  after 
supper  the  room  is  packed  to  suffocation,  and  a  long  line 
is  waiting  in  the  corridor,  marshalled  and  kept  in  good 
humour  by  able  lieutenants;  while  Mr.  Crewe  is  dimly  to 
be  perceived  through  clouds  of  incense  burning  in  his 
honour  —  and  incidentally  at  his  expense  —  with  a  wel 
coming  smile  and  an  appropriate  word  for  each  caller, 
whose  waistcoat  pockets,  when  they  emerge,  resemble  car 
tridge-belts  of  cigars. 

More  cigars  were  hastily  sent  for,  and  more.  There 
are  to  be  but  a  thousand  delegates  to  the  convention, 
and  at  least  two .  thousand  men  have  already  passed 
through  the  room  —  and  those  who  don't  smoke  have 
friends.  It  is  well  that  Mr.  Crewe  has  stuck  to  his  con 
servative  habit  of  not  squeezing  hands  too  hard. 

"  Isn't  that  Mr.  Putter,  who  keeps  a  livery-stable  here?  " 
inquired  Mr.  Crewe,  about  nine  o'clock— our  candidate 
having  a  piercing  eye  of  his  own.  Mr.  Putter's  coat,  being 
brushed  back,  has  revealed  six  cigars. 

"  WhJ>  yes  — yes,"  says  Mr.  Watling. 

"Is  he  a  delegate?"  Mr.  Crewe  demanded. 

"  Why,  I  guess  he  must  be,"  says  Mr.  Watling. 

But  Mr.  Putter  is  not  a  delegate. 

"  You've  stood  up  and  made  a  grand  fight,  Mr.  Crewe," 
says  another  gentleman,  a  little  later,  with  a  bland,  smooth- 
shaven  face  and  strong  teeth  to  clinch  Mr.  Crewe's  cigars. 
"  I  wish  I  was  fixed  so  as  I  could  vote  for  you." 

Mr.  Crewe  looks  at  him  narrowly. 

"  You  look  very  much  like  a  travelling  man  from  New 
York  who  tried  to  sell  me  farm  machinery,"  he  answers. 
"  Where  are  you  from  ?  " 

"  You  ain't  exactly  what  they  call  a  tyro,  are  you  ?  "  says 
the  bland-faced  man ;  "  but  I  guess  you've  missed  the  mark 
this  shot.  Well,  so  long." 

"  Hold  on  !  "  says  Mr.   Crewe,  "  Watling  will  talk  to 


And,  as  the  gentleman  follows  Mr.  Watling  through  the 

2F 


434  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

press,  a  pamphlet  drops  from  his  pocket  to  the  floor.  It 
is  marked  Catalogue  of  the  Raines  Farm  Implement  Com 
pany.  Mr.  Watling  picks  it  up  and  hands  it  to  the 
gentleman,  who  winks  again. 

"  Tim,"  he  says,  "  where  can  we  sit  down  ?  How  much 
are  you  getting  out  of  this  ?  Brush  and  Jake  Botcher  are 
bidding  high  down-stairs,  and  the  quotation  on  delegates 
has  gone  up  ten  points  in  ten  minutes.  It's  mighty  good 
of  you  to  remember  old  friends,  Tim,  even  if  they're  not 
delegates." 

Meanwhile  Mr.  Crewe  is  graciously  receiving  others 
who  are  crowding  to  him. 

"  How  are  you,  Mr.  Giddings  ?  How  are  the  cows  ?  I 
carry  some  stock  that'll  make  you  sit  up  —  I  believe  I 
told  you  when  I  was  down  your  way.  Of  course,  mine 
cost  a  little  money,  but  that's  one  of  my  hobbies.  Come 
and  see  'em  some  day.  There's  a  good  hotel  in  Ripton, 
and  I'll  have  you  met  there  and  drive  you  back." 

Thus,  with  a  genial  and  kindly  remark  to  each,  he 
passes  from  one  to  the  other,  and  when  the  members  of 
the  press  come  to  him  for  his  estimate  of  the  outcome  on 
the  morrow,  he  treats  them  with  the  same  courtly  consid 
eration. 

"  Estimate!  "  cries  Mr.  Crewe.  "  Where  have  your  eyes 
been  to-night,  my  friends?  Have  you  seen  the  people 
coming  into  these  headquarters  ?  Have  you  seen  'em 
pouring  into  any  other  headquarters  ?  All  the  State  and 
federal  office-holders  in  the  country  couldn't  stop  me  now. 
Estimate!  I'll  be  nominated  on  the  first  ballot." 

They  wrote  it  down. 

"  Thank  you,  Mr.  Crewe,"  they  said  ;  "  that's  the  kind 
of  talk  we  like  to  hear." 

"  And  don't  forget,"  said  Mr.  Crewe,  "  to  mention  this 
reception  in  the  accounts." 

Mr.  Tooting,  who  makes  it  a  point  from  time  to  time 
to  reconnoitre,  saunters  halfway  down-stairs  and  surveys 
the  crowded  rotunda  from  the  landing.  Through  the  blue 
medium  produced  by  the  burning  of  many  cigars  (mostly 
Mr.  Crewe's)  he  takes  note  of  the  burly  form  of  Mr. 


THE   ARENA  AND  THE   DUST  435 

Thomas  Gaylord  beside  that  of  Mr.  Redbrook  and  other 
rural  figures  ;  he  takes  note  of  a  quiet  corner  with  a  ring 
of  chairs  surrounded  by  scouts  and  outposts,  although  it 
requires  a  trained  eye  such  as  Mr.  Tooting's  to  recognize 
them  as  such  —  for  they  wear  no  uniforms.  They  are,  in 
truth,  minor  captains  of  the  feudal  system,  and  their  pres 
ent  duties  consist  (as  Mr.  Tooting  sees  clearly)  in  pre 
venting  the  innocent  and  inquisitive  from  unprofitable 
speech  with  the  Honourable  Jacob  Botcher,  who  sits  in 
the  inner  angle  conversing  cordially  with  those  who  are 
singled  out  for  this  honour.  Still  other  scouts  conduct 
some  of  the  gentlemen  who  have  talked  with  Mr.  Botcher 
up  the  stairs  to  a  mysterious  room  on  the  second  floor. 
Mr.  Tooting  discovers  that  the  room  is  occupied  by  the 
Honourable  Brush  Bascom  ;  Mr.  Tooting  learns  with  in 
dignation  that  certain  of  these  guests  of  Mr.  Bascom's  are 
delegates  pledged  to  Mr.  Crewe,  whereupon  he  rushes  back 
to  the  bridal  suite  to  report  to  his  chief.  The  cigars  are 
giving  out  again,  and  the  rush  has  slackened,  and  he 
detaches  the  People's  Champion  from  the  line  and  draws 
him  to  the  inner  room. 

"  Brush  Bascom's  conducting  a  bourse  on  the  second 
floor  and  is  running  the  price  up  right  along,"  cried  the 
honest  and  indignant  Mr.  Tooting.  "  He's  stringin' 
Adam  Hunt  all  right.  They  say  he's  got  Adam  to  cough 
up  six  thousand  extra  since  five  o'clock,  bat  the  question 
is  —  ain't  he  stringin'  us  ?  He  paid  six  hundred  for  a 
block  of  ten  not  quarter  of  an  hour  ago  —  and  nine  of  'em 
were  our  delegates." 

It  must  be  remembered  that  these  are  Mr.  Tooting's 
words,  and  Mr.  Crewe  evidently  treated  them  as  the  prod 
uct  of  that  gentleman's  vivid  imagination.  Translated, 
they  meant  that  the  Honourable  Adam  B.  Hunt  has  no 
chance  for  the  nomination,  but  that  the  crafty  Messrs. 
Botcher  and  Bascom  are  inducing  him  to  think  that  he 
has  —  by  making  a  supreme  effort.  The  supreme  effort 
is  represented  by  six  thousand  dollars. 

"  Are  you  going  to  lie  down  under  that  ?  "  Mr.  Toot 
ing  demanded,  forgetting  himself  in  his  zeal  for  reform 


436  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

and  Mr.  Crewe.  But  Mr.  Tooting,  in  some  alarm,  per 
ceived  the  eye  of  his  chief  growing  virtuous  and  glassy. 

"  I  guess  I  know  when  Tm  strung,  as  you  call  it,  Mr. 
Tooting,"  he  replied  severely.  "  This  cigar  bill  alone  is 
enough  to  support  a  large  family  for  several  months." 

And  with  this  merited  reproof  he  turned  on  his  heel  and 
went  back  to  his  admirers  without,  leaving  Mr.  Tooting 
aghast,  but  still  resourceful.  Ten  minutes  later  that 
gentleman  was  engaged  in  a  private  conversation  with  his 
colleague,  the  Honourable  Timothy  Watling. 

"  He's  up  on  his  hind  legs  at  last,"  said  Mr.  Tooting; 
"it  looks  as  if  he  was  catching  on." 

Mr.  Watling  evidently  grasped  these  mysterious  words, 
for  he  looked  grave. 

"  He  thinks  he's  got  the  nomination  cinched,  don't  he  ?  " 

*'  That's  the  worst  of  it,"  cried  Mr.  Tooting. 

"  I'll  see  what  I  can  do,"  said  the  Honourable  Tim. 
"He's  always  talking  about  thorough;  let  him  do  it 
thorough."  And  Mr.  Watling  winked. 

"  Thorough"  repeated  Mr.  Tooting,  delightedly. 

"  That's  it  —  Colonel,"  said  Mr.  Watling.  "  Have  you 
ordered  your  uniform  yet,  Ham  ?  " 

Mr.  Tooting  plainly  appreciated  this  joke,  for  he 
grinned. 

"  I  guess  you  won't  starve  if  you  don't  get  that  com- 
missionership,  Tim,"  he  retorted. 

"  And  I  guess,"  returned  Mr.  Watling,  "that  you  won't 
go  naked  if  you  don't  have  a  uniform." 

Victoria's  surmise  was  true.  At  ten  o'clock  at  night,  two 
days  before  the  convention,  a  tall  figure  had  appeared  in 
the  empty  rotunda  of  the  Pelican,  startling  the  clerk  out 
of  a  doze.  He  rubbed  his  eyes  and  stared,  recognized 
Hilary  Vane,  and  yet  failed  to  recognize  him.  It  was  an 
extraordinary  occasion  indeed  which  would  cause  Mr.  Mc- 
Avoy  to  lose  his  aplomb;  to  neglect  to  seize  the  pen  and 
dip  it,  with  a  flourish,  into  the  ink,  and  extend  its  handle 
towards  the  important  guest ;  to  omit  a  few  fitting  words 
of  welcome.  It  was  Hilary  who  got  the  pen  first,  and 


THE  ARENA  AND  THE   DUST  437 

wrote  his  name  in  silence,  and  by  this  time  Mr.  McAvoy 
had  recovered  his  presence  of  mind  sufficiently  to  wield 
the  blotter. 

"  We  didn't  expect  you  to-night,  Mr.  Vane,"  he  said,  in 
a  voice  that  sounded  strange  to  him,  "but  we've  kept 
Number  Seven,  as  usual.  Front  I  " 

"The  old  man's  seen  his  day,  I  guess,"  Mr.  McAvoy 
remarked,  as  he  studied  the  register  with  a  lone  reporter. 
"  This  Crewe  must  have  got  in  on  'em  hard,  from  what 
they  tell  me,  and  Adam  Hunt  has  his  dander  up." 

The  next  morning  at  ten  o'clock,  while  the  workmen 
were  still  tacking  down  the  fireproof  carpets  in  head 
quarters  upstairs,  and  before  even  the  advance  guard  of 
the  armies  had  begun  to  arrive,  the  eye  of  the  clerk  was 
caught  by  a  tall  young  man  rapidly  approaching  the  desk. 

"  Is  Mr.  Hilary  Vane  here  ?  " 

"  He's  in  Number  Seven,"  said  Mr.  McAvoy,  who  was 
cudgelling  his  brains.  "  Give  me  your  card,  and  I'll  send 
it  up." 

"  I'll  go  up,"  said  the  caller,  turning  on  his  heel  and  suit 
ing  the  action  to  the  word,  leaving  Mr.  McAvoy  to  make 
active  but  futile  inquiries  among  the  few  travelling  men 
and  reporters  seated  about. 

"  Well,  if  you  fellers  don't  know  him,  I  give  up," 
said  the  clerk,  irritably,  "  but  he  looks  as  if  he  ought  to 
be  somebody.  He  knows  his  business,  anyway." 

In  the  meantime  Mr.  Vane's  caller  had  reached  the  first 
floor;  he  hesitated  just  a  moment  before  knocking  at  the 
door  of  Number  Seven,  and  the  Honourable  Hilary's  voice 
responded.  The  door  opened. 

Hilary  was  seated,  as  usual,  beside  the  marble-topped 
table,  which  was  covered  with  newspapers  and  memo 
randa.  In  the  room  were  Mr.  Ridout,  the  capital  lawyer, 
and  Mr.  Manning,  the  division  superintendent.  There 
was  an  instant  of  surprised  silence  on  the  part  of  the  three, 
but  the  Honourable  Hilary  was  the  only  one  who  remained 
expressionless. 

"  If  you  don't  mind,  gentlemen,"  said  the  visitor,  "  I 
should  like  to  talk  to  my  father  for  a  few  minutes." 


438  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

"  Why,  certainly,  Austen,"  Mr.  Ridout  replied,  with  an 
attempt  at  heartiness.  Further  words  seemed  to  fail  him, 
and  he  left  the  room  somewhat  awkwardly,  followed  by 
Mr.  Manning ;  but  the  Honourable  Hilary  appeared  to 
take  no  notice  of  this  proceeding. 

"  Judge,"  said  Austen,  when  the  door  had  closed  behind 
them,  "  I  won't  keep  you  long.  I  didn't  come  down  here 
to  plead  with  you  to  abandon  what  you  believe  to  be  your 
duty,  because  I  know  that  would  be  useless.  I  have  had 
a  talk  with  Dr.  Tredway,"  he  added  gently,  "and  I 
realize  that  you  are  risking  your  life.  If  I  could  take  you 
back  to  Ripton  I  would,  but  I  know  that  I  cannot.  I  see 
your  point  of  view,  and  if  I  were  in  your  place  I  should 
do  the  same  thing.  I  only  wanted  to  tell  you  this — " 
Austen's  voice  caught  a  little,  "if  —  anything  should 
happen,  I  shall  be  at  Mrs.  Peasley's  on  Maple  Street, 
opposite  the  Duncan  house."  He  laid  his  hand  for  an  in 
stant,  in  the  old  familiar  way,  on  Hilary's  shoulder,  and 
looked  down  into  the  older  man's  face.  It  may  have  been 
that  Hilary's  lips  trembled  a  little.  "I  —  I'll  see  you 
later,  Judge,  when  it's  all  over.  Good  luck  to  you." 

He  turned  slowly,  went  to  the  door  and  opened  it,  gave 
one  glance  at  the  motionless  figure  in  the  chair,  and  went 
out.  He  did  not  hear  the  voice  that  called  his  name,  for 
the  door  had  shut. 

Mr.  Ridout  and  Mr.  Manning  were  talking  together  in 
low  tones  at  the  head  of  the  stairs.  It  was  the  lawyer 
who  accosted  Austen. 

"  The  old  gentleman  don't  seem  to  be  quite  himself, 
Austen.  Don't  seem  well.  You  ought  to  hold  him  in  — 
he  can't  work  as  hard  as  he  used  to." 

"  I  think  you'll  find,  Mr.  Ridout,"  answered  Austen, 
deliberately,  "  that  he'll  perform  what's  required  of  him 
with  his  usual  efficiency." 

Mr.  Ridout  followed  Austen's  figure  with  his  eyes  until 
he  was  hidden  by  a  turn  of  the  stairs.  Then  he  whistled. 

"  I  can't  make  that  fellow  out,"  he  exclaimed.  "  Never 
could.  All  I  know  is  that  if  Hilary  Vane  pulls  us 
through  this  mess,  in  the  shape  he's  in,  it'll  be  a  miracle. 


THE   ARENA   AND  THE   DUST  439 

His  mind  seems  sound  enough  to-day  —  but  he's  lost  his 
grip,  I  tell  you.  I  don't  wonder  Flint's  beside  himself. 
Here's  Adam  Hunt  with  both  feet  in  the  trough,  and  no 
more  chance  of  the  nomination  than  I  have,  and  Bascom 
and  Botcher  teasing  him  on,  and  he's  got  enough  votes 
with  Crewe  to  lock  up  that  convention  for  a  dark  horse. 
And  who's  the  dark  horse  ?  " 

Mr.  Manning,  who  was  a  silent  man,  pointed  with  his 
thumb  in  the  direction  Austen  had  taken. 

"  Hilary  Vane's  own  son,"  said  Mr.  Ridout,  voicing 
the  gesture;  "they  tell  me  that  Tom  Gaylord's  done 
some  pretty  slick  work.  Now  I  leave  it  to  you,  Manning, 
if  that  isn't  a  mess  !  " 

At  this  moment  the  conversation  was  interrupted  by 
the  appearance  on  the  stairway  of  the  impressive  form  of 
United  States  Senator  Whitredge,  followed  by  a  hall  boy 
carrying  the  senatorial  gripsack.  The  senator's  face 
wore  a  look  of  concern  which  could  not  possibly  be  mis 
interpreted. 

"  How's  Hilary  ?  "  were  his  first  words. 

Mr.  Ridout  and  Mr.  Manning  glanced  at  each  other. 

"  He's  in  Number  Seven ;  you'd  better  take  a  look  at 
him,  Senator." 

The  senator  drew  breath,  directed  that  his  grip  be  put 
in  the  room  where  he  was  to  repose  that  night,  produced 
an  amber  cigar-holder  from  a  case,  and  a  cigar  from  his 
waistcoat  pocket. 

"  I  thought  I'd  better  come  down  early,"  he  said  ; 
"tilings  aren't  going  just  as  they  should,  and  that's  the 
truth.  In  fact,"  he  added,  significantly  tapping  his 
pocket,  "I've  got  a  letter  from  Mr.  Flint  to  Hilary  which 
I  may  have  to  use.  You  understand  me." 

"  I  guessed  as  much,"  said  Mr.  Ridout. 

"  Ahem !  I  saw  young  Vane  going  out  of  the  hotel 
just  now,"  the  senator  remarked.  "  I  am  told,  on  pretty 
good  authority,  that  under  certain  circumstances,  which  I 
must  confess  seem  not  unlikely  at  present,  he  may  be  a 
candidate  for  the  nomination.  The  fact  that  he  is  in 
town  tends  to  make  the  circumstance  more  probable." 


440  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

"  He's  just  been  in  to  see  Hilary,"  said  Mr.  Ridout. 

"  You  don't  tell  me  !  "  said  the  senator,  pausing  as  he 
lighted  his  cigar;  "I  was  under  the  impression  that — - 
that  they  were  not  on  speaking  terms." 

"  They've  evidently  got  together  now,"  said  Mr.  Ridout. 
"  I  wonder  how  old  Hilary  would  feel  about  it.  We 
couldn't  do  much  with  Austen  Vane  if  he  was  governor 

—  that's  a  sure  thing." 

The  senator  pondered  a  moment. 

"It's  been  badly  managed,"  he  muttered;  "there's  no 
doubt  of  that.  Hunt  must  be  got  out  of  the  way.  When 
Bascom  and  Botcher  come,  tell  them  I  want  to  see  them 
in  my  room,  not  in  Number  Seven." 

And  with  this  impressive  command,  received  with  nods 
of  understanding,  Senator  Whitredge  advanced  slowly 
towards  Number  Seven,  knocked,  and  entered.  Be  it 
known  that  Mr.  Flint,  with  characteristic  caution,  had 
not  confided  even  to  the  senator  that  the  Honourable 
Hilary  had  had  a  stroke. 

"  Ah,  Vane,"  he  said,  in  his  most  affable  tones,  "  how 
are  you  ?  " 

The  Honourable  Hilary,  who  was  looking  over  some 
papers,  shot  at  him  a  glance  from  under  his  shaggy  eye 
brows. 

"  Came  in  here  to  find  out  —  didn't  you,  Whitredge  ?  " 
he  replied. 

"  What  ?  "  said  the  senator,  taken  aback,  and  for  once  at 
a  loss  for  words. 

The  Honourable  Hilary  rose  and  stood  straighter  than 
usual,  and  looked  the  senator  in  the  eye. 

"  What's  your  diagnosis  ?"  he  asked.     "  Superannuated 

—  unfit  for  duty — unable  to  cope  with  the  situation  — 
ready  to  be  superseded  ?     Is  that  about  it  ?  " 

To  say  that  Senator  Whitredge  was  startled  and  un 
comfortable  would  be  to  put  his  case  mildly.  He  had 
never  before  seen  Mr.  Vane  in  this  mood. 

"  Ha-ha  !  "  he  laughed ;  "  the  years  are  coming  over  us  a 
little,  aren't  they  ?  But  I  guess  it  isn't  quite  time  for  the 
youngsters  to  step  in  yet." 


THE   ARENA  AND  THE   DUST  441 

"  No,  Whitredge,"  said  Mr.  Vane,  slowly,  without  tak 
ing  his  eye  from  the  senator's,  "  and  it  won't  be  until 
this  convention  is  over.  Do  you  understand  ?  " 

"  That's  the  first  good  news  I've  heard  this  morning," 
said  the  senator,  with  the  uneasy  feeling  that,  in  some 
miraculous  way,  the  Honourable  Hilary  had  read  the  super 
seding  orders  from  highest  authority  through  his  pocket. 

"  You  may  take  it  as  good  news  or  bad  news,  as  you 
please,  but  it's  a  fact.  And  now  I  want  you  to  tell 
Ridout  that  I  wish  to  see  him  again,  and  to  bring  in  Doby, 
who  is  to  be  chairman  of  the  convention." 

"  Certainly,"  assented  the  senator,  with  alacrity,  as  he 
started  for  the  door.  Then  he  turned.  "  I'm  glad  to  see 
you're  all  right,  Vane,"  he  added  ;  "  I'd  heard  that  you  were 
a  little  under  the  weather  —  a  bilious  attack  on  account 
of  the  heat  —  that's  all  I  meant."  He  did  not  wait  for 
an  answer,  nor  would  he  have  got  one.  And  he  found 
Mr.  Ridout  in  the  hall. 

"Well?"  said  the  lawyer,  expectantly,  and  looking 
with  some  curiosity  at  the  senator's  face. 

"  Well,"  said  Mr.  Whitredge,  with  marked  impatience, 
"he  wrants  to  see  you  right  away." 

All  day  long  Hilary  Vane  held  conference  in  Number 
Seven,  and  at  six  o'clock  sent  a  request  that  the  Honour 
able  Adam  visit  him.  The  Honourable  Adam  would  not 
come;  and  the  fact  leaked  out — through  the  Honourable 
Adam. 

"  He's  mad  clean  through,"  reported  the  Honourable 
Elisha  Jane,  to  whose  tact  and  diplomacy  the  mission  had 
been  confided.  "  He  said  he  would  teach  Flint  a  lesson. 
He'd  show  him  he  couldn't  throw  away  a  man  as  useful 
and  efficient  as  he'd  been,  like  a  sucked  orange." 

"  Humph  !  A  sucked  orange.  That's  what  he  said,  is 
it?  A  sucked  orange,"  Hilary  repeated. 

"  That's  what  he  said,"  declared  Mr.  Jane,  and  re 
membered  afterwards  how  Hilary  had  been  struck  by  the 
simile. 

At  ten  o'clock  at  night,  at  the  very  height  of  the  tumult, 
Senator  Whitredge  had  received  an  interrogatory  tele- 


442  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

gram  from  Fairview,  and  had  called  a  private  conference 
(in  which  Hilary  was  not  included)  in  a  back  room  on 
the  second  floor  (where  the  conflicting  bands  of  Mr. 
Crewe  and  Mr.  Hunt  could  not  be  heard),  which  Mr. 
Manning  and  Mr.  Jane  and  State  Senator  Billings  and 
Mr.  Ridout  attended.  Query :  the  Honourable  Hilary 
had  quarrelled  with  Mr.  Flint,  that  was  an  open  secret ; 
did  not  Mr.  Vane  think  himself  justified,  from  his  own 
point  of  view,  in  taking  a  singular  revenge  in  not  over 
exerting  himself  to  pull  the  Honourable  Adam  out, 
thereby  leaving  the  field  open  for  his  son,  Austen  Vane, 
with  whom  he  was  apparently  reconciled?  Not  that  Mr. 
Flint  had  hinted  of  such  a  thing !  He  had,  in  the  tele 
gram,  merely  urged  the  senator  himself  to  see  Mr.  Hunt, 
and  to  make  one  more  attempt  to  restrain  the  loyalty  to 
that  candidate  of  Messrs.  Bascom  and  Botcher. 

The  senator  made  the  attempt,  and  failed  signally. 

It  was  half-past  midnight  by  the  shining  face  of  the 
clock  on  the  tower  of  the  state-house,  and  hope  flamed 
high  in  the  bosom  of  the  Honourable  Adam  B.  Hunt  — 
a  tribute  to  the  bellows-like  skill  of  Messrs.  Bascom  and 
Botcher.  The  bands  in  the  street  had  blown  themselves 
out,  the  delegates  were  at  last  seeking  rest,  the  hall  boys 
in  the  .corridors  were  turning  down  the  lights,  and  the 
Honourable  Adam,  in  a  complacent  and  even  jubilant 
frame  of  mind,  had  put  on  his  carpet  slippers  and  taken 
off  his  coat,  when  there  came  a  knock  at  his  door.  He 
was  not  a  little  amazed  and  embarrassed,  upon  opening  it, 
to  see  the  Honourable  Hilary.  But  these  feelings  gave 
place  almost  immediately  to  a  sense  of  triumph ;  gone 
were  the  days  when  he  had  to  report  to  Number  Seven. 
Number  Seven,  in  the  person  of  Hilary  (who  was  Number 
Seven),  had  been  forced  to  come  to  him  ! 

"  Well,  upon  my  soul !  "  he  exclaimed  heartily. 
"Come  in,  Hilary."' 

He  turned  up  the  jets  of  the  chandelier,  and  gazed  at 
his  friend,  and  was  silent. 

"  Have  a  seat,  Hilary,"  he  said,  pushing  up  an  arm 
chair. 


THE   ARENA  AND  THE   DUST  443 

Mr.  Vane  sat  down.  Mr.  Hunt  took  a  seat  opposite, 
and  waited  for  his  visitor  to  speak.  He  himself  seemed 
to  find  no  words. 

"  Adam,"  said  Mr.  Vane,  at  length,  "  we've  known  each 
other  for  a  good  many  years." 

"That's  so,  Hilary.  That's  so,"  Mr.  Hunt  eagerly 
assented.  What  was  coming? 

"And  whatever  harm  I've  done  in  my  life,"  Hilary 
continued,  "I've  always  tried  to  keep  my  word.  I  told 
you,  when  we  met  up  there  by  the  mill  this  summer,  that 
if  Mr.  Flint  had  consulted  me  about  your  candidacy, 
before  seeing  you  in  New  York,  I  shouldn't  have  advised 
it  —  this  time." 

The  Honourable  Adam's  face  stiffened. 

"  That's  what  you  said.     But  —  " 

"And  I  meant  it,"  Mr.  Vane  interrupted.  "I  was 
never  pledged  to  your  candidacy,  as  a  citizen.  I've  been 
thinking  over  my  situation  some,  this  summer,  and  I'll 
tell  you  in  so  many  plain  words  what  it  is.  I  guess  you 
know  —  I  guess  everybody  knows  who's  thought  about  it. 
I  deceived  myself  for  a  long  time  by  believing  that  I 
earned  my  living  as  the  attorney  for  the  Northeastern 
Railroads.  I've  drawn  up  some  pretty  good  papers  for 
them,  and  I've  won  some  pretty  difficult  suits.  I'm  not 
proud  of  'em  all,  but  let  that  go.  Do  you  know  what  I 
am?" 

The  Honourable  Adam  was  capable  only  of  a  startled 
ejaculation.  Was  Hilary  Vane  in  his  right  senses? 

"  I'm  merely  their  paid  political  tool,"  Mr.  Vane  con 
tinued,  in  the  same  tone.  "  I've  sold  them  my  brain,  and 
my  right  of  opinion  as  a  citizen.  I  wanted  to  make  this 
clear  to  you  first  of  all.  Not  that  you  didn't  know  it,  but 
I  wished  you  to  know  that  I  know  it.  When  Mr.  Flint 
said  that  you  were  to  be  the  Republican  nominee,  my 
business  was  to  work  to  get  you  elected,  which  I  did. 
And  when  it  became  apparent  that  you  couldn't  be  nomi 
nated —  " 

"  Hold  on  !  "  cried  the  Honourable  Adam. 

"Please  wait  until  I  have  finished.     When  it  became 


444  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

apparent  that  you  couldn't  be  nominated,  Mr.  Flint  sent 
me  to  try  to  get  you  to  withdraw,  and  he  decreed  that 
the  new  candidate  should  pay  your  expenses  up  to  date. 
I  failed  in  that  mission." 

"  I  don't  blame  you,  Hilary,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Hunt. 
"  I  told  you  so  at  the  time.  But  I  guess  I'll  soon  be  in 
a  position  where  I  can  make  Flint  walk  the  tracks  —  his 
own  tracks." 

"  Adam,"  said  Mr.  Vane,  "  it  is  because  I  deserve  as 
much  of  the  blame  as  Mr.  Flint  that  I  am  here." 

Again  Mr.  Hunt  was  speechless.  The  Honourable 
Hilary  Vane  in  an  apologetic  mood  !  A  surmise  flashed 
into  the  brain  of  the  Honourable  Adam,  and  sparkled 
there.  The  Honourable  Giles  Henderson  was  prepared 
to  withdraw,  and  Hilary  had  come,  by  authority,  to  see 
if  he  would  pay  the  Honourable  Giles'  campaign  expenses. 
Well,  he  could  snap  his  ringers  at  that. 

"  Flint  has  treated  me  like  a  dog,"  he  declared. 

"  Mr.  Flint  never  pretended,"  answered  Mr.  Vane,  coldly, 
"  that  the  nomination  and  election  of  a  governor  was  any 
thing  but  a  business  transaction.  His  regard  for  you  is 
probably  unchanged,  but  the  interests  he  has  at  stake  are 
too  large  to  admit  of  sentiment  as  a  factor." 

"  Exactly,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Hunt.  "  And  I  hear  he 
hasn't  treated  you  just  right,  Hilary.  I  understand  —  " 

Hilary's  eyes  flashed  for  the  first  time. 

"Never  mind  that,  Adam,"  he  said  quietly;  "I've  been 
treated  as  I  deserve.  I  have  nothing  whatever  to  com 
plain  of  from  Mr.  Flint.  I  will  tell  you  why  I  came  here 
to-night.  I  haven't  felt  right  about  you  since  that  inter 
view,  and  the  situation  to-night  is  practically  what  it  was 
then.  You  can't  be  nominated." 

"  Can't  be  nominated !  "  gasped  Mr.  Hunt.  s  And  he 
reached  to  the  table  for  his  figures.  "  I'll  have  four 
hundred  on  the  first  ballot,  and  I've  got  two  hundred 
and  fifty  more  pledged  to  me  as  second  choice.  If  you've 
come  up  here  at  this  time  of  night  to  try  to  deceive  me 
on  that,  you  might  as  well  go  back  and  wire  Flint  it's 
no  use.  Why,  I  can  name  the  delegates,  if  you'll  listen." 


THE   ARENA  AND  THE   DUST  445 

Mr.  Vane  shook  his  head  sadly.  And,  confident  as  he 
was,  the  movement  sent  a  cold  chill  down  the  Honourable 
Adam's  spine,  for  faith  in  Mr.  Vane's  judgment  had  be 
come  almost  a  second  nature.  He  had  to  force  himself 
to  remember  that  this  was  not  the  old  Hilary. 

"  You  won't  have  three  hundred,  Adam,  at  any  time," 
answered  Mr.  Vane.  "Once  you  used  to  believe  what  I 
said,  and  if  you  won't  now,  you  won't.  But  I  can't  go 
away  without  telling  you  what  I  came  for." 

"  What's  that  ?  "  demanded  Mr.  Hunt,  wonderingly. 

"  It's  this,"  replied  Hilary,  with  more  force  than  he  had 
yet  shown.  "  You  can't  get  that  nomination.  If  you'll 
let  me  know  what  your  campaign  expenses  have  been  up 
to  date,  —  all  of 'em,  you  understand,  to-night  too,  —  I'll 
give  you  a  check  for  them  within  the  next  two  weeks." 

"  Who  makes  this  offer  ?  "  demanded  Mr.  Hunt,  with 
more  curiosity  than  alarm;  "  Mr.  Flint  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Hilary  ;  "  Mr.  Flint  does  not  use  the  road's 
funds  for  such  purposes." 

"  Henderson  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Hilary  ;  "  I  can't  see  what  difference  it 
makes  to  you." 

The  Honourable  Adam  had  an  eminently  human  side, 
and  he  laid  his  hand  on  Mr.  Vane's  knee. 

"  I  think  I've  got  a  notion  as  to  where  that  money  would 
come  from,  Hilary,"  he  said.  "  I'm  much  obliged  to  you, 
my  friend.  I  wouldn't  take  it  even  if  I  thought  you'd  sized 
up  the  situation  right.  But  —  I  don't  agree  with  you  this 
time.  I  know  I've  got  the  nomination.  And  I  want  to 
say  once  more,  that  I  think  you're  a  square  man,  and  I 
don't  hold  anything  against  you." 

Mr.  Vane  rose. 

"  I'm  sorry,  Adam,"  he  said  ;  "  my  offer  holds  good  — 
after  to-morrow." 

"  After  to-morrow  !  " 

"  Yes,"  said  the  Honourable  Hilary.  "  I  don't  feel 
right  about  this  thing.  Er  —  good  night,  Adam." 

"  Hold  on !  "  cried  Mr.  Hunt,  as  a  new  phase  of  the 
matter  struck  him.  "Why,  if  I  got  out  —  " 


446  MR,   CREWE'S   CAREER 

"  What  then  ?  "  said  Mr.  Vane,  turning  around, 

"  Oh,  I  won't  get  out,"  said  Mr.  Hunt,  "  but  if  I  did, 
—  why,  there  wouldn't,  according  to  your  way  of  thinking, 
be  any  chance  for  a  dark. horse." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  demanded  Mr.  Vane. 

"  Now  don't  get  mad,  Hilary.  I  guess,  and  you  know, 
that  Flint  hasn't  treated  you  decently  this  summer  after 
all  you've  done  for  him,  and  I  admire  the  way  you're 
standing  by  him.  I  wouldn't  do  it.  I  just  wanted  to 
say,"  Mr.  Hunt  added  slowly,  "  that  I  respect  you  all  the 
more  for  trying  to  get  me  out.  If  —  always  according  to 
your  notion  of  the  convention  —  if  I  don't  get  out,  and 
haven't  any  chance,  they  tell  me  on  pretty  good  authority 
Austen  Vane  will  get  the  nomination." 

Hilary  Vane  walked  to  the  door,  opened  it  and  went  out, 
and  slammed  it  behind  him. 

******* 

It  is  morning,  —  a  hot  morning,  as  so  many  recall,  —  and 
the  partisans  of  the  three  leaders  are  early  astir,  and  at 
seven- thirty  Mr.  Tooting  discovers  something  going  on 
briskly  which  he  terms  u  dealing  in  futures."  My  vote 
is  yours  as  long  as  you  are  in  the  race,  but  after  that  I 
have  something  negotiable.  The  Honourable  Adam  Hunt 
strolls  into  the  rotunda  after  an  early  breakfast,  with  a 
toothpick  in  his  mouth,  and  is  pointed  out  by  the  sophisti 
cated  to  new  arrivals  as  the  man  who  spent  seven  thou 
sand  dollars  over  night,  much  of  which  is  said  to  have 
stuck  in  the  pockets  of  two  feudal  chiefs  who  could  be 
named.  Is  it  possible  that  there  is  a  split  in  the  feudal 
system  at  last?  that  the  two  feudal  chiefs  (who  could 
be  named)  are  rebels  against  highest  authority  ?  A  smile 
from  the  sophisticated  one.  This  duke  and  baron  have 
merely  stopped  to  pluck  a  bird;  it  matters  not  whether  or 
not  the  bird  is  an  erstwhile  friend  —  he  has  been  outlawed 
by  highest  authority,  and  is  fair  game.  The  bird  (with 
the  toothpick  in  his  mouth)  creates  a  smile  from  other 
chiefs  of  the  system  in  good  standing  who  are  not  too 
busy  to  look  at  him.  They  have  ceased  all  attempts  to 
buttonhole  him,  for  he  is  unapproachable. 


THE   ARENA  AND  THE   DUST  447 

The  other  bird,  the  rebel  of  Leith,  who  has  never  been 
in  the  feudal  system  at  all,  they  have  stopped  laughing 
at.  It  is  he  who  has  brought  the  Empire  to  its  most  pre 
carious  state. 

And  now,  while  strangers  from  near  and  far  throng 
into  town,  drawn  by  the  sensational  struggle  which  is  to 
culminate  in  battle  to-day,  Mr.  Crewe  is  marshalling  his 
forces.  All  the  delegates  who  can  be  collected,  and  who 
wear  the  button  with  the  likeness  and  superscription  of 
Humphrey  Crewe,  are  drawn  up  beside  the  monument  in 
the  park,  where  the  Ripton  Band  is  stationed;  and  pres 
ently  they  are  seen  by  cheering  crowds  marching  to 
martial  music  towards  the  convention  hall,  where  they 
collect  in  a  body,  with  signs  and  streamers  in  praise  of 
the  People's  Champion  well  to  the  front  and  centre.  This 
is  generally  regarded  as  a  piece  of  consummate  general 
ship  on  the  part  of  their  leader.  They  are  applauded  from 
the  galleries,  —  already  packed,  —  especially  from  one  con 
spicuous  end  where  sit  that  company  of  ladies  (now  so 
famed)  whose  efforts  have  so  materially  .aided  the  cause 
of  the  People's  Champion.  Gay  streamers  vie  with  gayer 
gowns,  and  morning  papers  on  the  morrow  will  have  some 
thing  to  say  about  the  fashionable  element  and  the  special 
car  which  brought  them  from  Leith. 

My,  but  it  is  hot ! 

The  hall  is  filled  now,  with  the  thousand  delegates,  or 
their  representatives  who  are  fortunate  enough  to  possess 
their  credentials.  Something  of  this  matter  later.  General 
Doby,  chairman  of  the  convention,  an  impressive  but 
mournful  figure,  could  not  call  a  roll  if  he  wanted  to.  Not 
that  he  will  want  to!  Impossible  to  tell,  by  the  con 
venient  laws  of  the  State,  whether  the  duly  elected  dele 
gates  of  Hull  or  Mercer  or  Truro  are  here  or  not,  since 
their  credentials  may  be  bought  or  sold  or  conferred. 
Some  political  giants,  who  have  not  negotiated  their  cre 
dentials,  are  recognized  as  they  walk  down  the  aisle :  the 
statesmanlike  figure  of  Senator  Whitredge  (a  cheer);  that 
of  Senator  Green  (not  so  statesmanlike,  but  a  cheer); 
Congressman  Fairplay  (cheers) :  and  —  Hilary  Vane  !  His 


448  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

a  figure  that  does  not  inspire  cheers,  —  least  of  all  to-day, 
—  the  man  upon  whose  shoulders  rests  the  political  future 
of  the  Northeastern.  The  conservative  Mr.  Tredways 
and  other  Lincoln  radicals  of  long  ago  who  rely  on  his 
strength  and  judgment  are  not  the  sort  to.  cheer.  And 
yet  —  and  yet  Hilary  inspires  some  feeling  when,  with 
stooping  gait,  he  traverses  the  hall,  and  there  is  a  hush  in 
many  quarters  as  delegates  and  spectators  watch  his  prog 
ress  to  the  little  room  off  the  platform  :  the  general's 
room,  as  the  initiated  know. 

Ah,  but  few  know  what  a  hateful  place  it  is  to  Hilary 
Vane  to-day,  this  keyboard  at  which  he  has  sat  so  compla 
cently  in  years  gone  by,  the  envied  of  conventions.  He 
sits  down  wearily,  at  the  basswood  table,  and  scarcely 
hears  the  familiar  sounds  without,  which  indicate  that  the 
convention  of  conventions  has  begun.  Extraordinary 
phenomenon  at  such  a  time,  scenes  of  long  ago  and  little 
cherished  then,  are  stealing  into  his  mind. 

The  Reverend  Mr.  Crane  (so  often  chaplain  of  the  Leg 
islature,  and  known  to  the  irreverent  as  the  chaplain  of 
the  Northeastern)  is  praying  now  for  guidance  in  the 
counsels  of  this  great  gathering  of  the  people's  represen 
tatives.  God  will  hear  Mr.  Botcher  better  if  he  closes 
his  eyes  ;  which  he  does.  Now  the  platform  is  being  read 
by  State  Senator  Billings;  closed  eyes  would  best  suit  this 
proceeding,  too.  As  a  parallel  to  that  platform,  one  can 
think  only  of  the  Ten  Commandments.  The  Republican 
Party  (chosen  children  of  Israel)  must  be  kept  free  from  the 
domination  of  corporations.  (Cheers  and  banner  waving 
for  a  full  minute.)  Some  better  method  of  choosing  delegates 
which  will  more  truly  reflect  the  will  of  the  people.  (Plank  of 
the  Honourable  Jacob  Botcher,  whose  conscience  is  awak 
ening.)  Never  mind  the  rest.  It  is  a  triumph  for  Mr. 
Crewe,  and  is  all  printed  in  that  orthodox  (reform !)  news 
paper,  the  State  Tribune,  with  urgent  editorials  that  it 
must  be  carried  out  to  the  letter. 

And  what  now  ?  Delegates,  credential  holders,  audience, 
and  the  Reverend  Mr.  Crane  draw  long  breaths  of  heated 
carbon  dioxide.  Postmaster  Burrows  of  Edmundton,  in 


THE   ARENA  AND   THE   DUST  449 

rounded  periods,  is  putting  in  nomination  his  distinguished 
neighbour  and  fellow-citizen,  the  Honourable  Adam  B. 
Hunt,  who  can  subscribe  and  say  amen  to  every  plank  in 
that  platform.  He  believes  it,  he  has  proclaimed  it  in 
public,  and  he  embodies  it.  Mr.  Burrows  indulges  in 
slight  but  effective  sarcasm  of  sham  reformers  and  so- 
called  business  men  who  perform  the  arduous  task  of 
cutting  coupons  and  live  in  rarefied  regions  where  they 
can  only  be  seen  by  the  common  people  when  the  light 
is  turned  on.  (Cheers  from  two  partisan  bodies  and 
groans  and  hisses  from  another.  General  Doby,  with  a 
pained  face,  pounding  with  the  gavel.  This  isn't  a  cir 
cumstance  to  what's  coming,  General.) 

After  General  Doby  has  succeeded  in  abating  the  noise 
in  honour  of  the  Honourable  Adam,  there  is  a  hush  of  ex 
pectancy.  Humphrey  Ore  we,  who  has  made  all  this 
trouble  and  enthusiasm,  is  to  be  nominated  next,  and  the 
Honourable  Timothy  Watling  of  Newcastle  arises  to  make 
that  celebrated  oration  which  the  cynical  have  called  the 
"thousand-dollar  speech."  And  even  if  they  had  named 
it  well  (which  is  not  for  a  moment  to  be  admitted  !),  it 
is  cheap  for  the  price.  How  Mr.  Crewe's  ears  must  tingle 
as  he  paces  his  headquarters  in  the  Pelican  !  Almost 
would  it  be  sacrilege  to  set  down  cold,  on  paper,  the  words 
that  come,  burning,  out  of  the  Honourable  Timothy's  loyal 
heart.  Here,  gentlemen,  is  a  man  at  last,  not  a  mere 
puppet  who  signs  his  name  when  a  citizen  of  New  York 
pulls  the  string  ;  one  who  is  prepared  to  make  any  sacri 
fice,  —  to  spend  his  life,  if  need  be,  in  their  service.  (A 
barely  audible  voice,  before  the  cheering  commences,  "I 
guess  that's  so.")  Humphrey  Crewe  needs  no  defence 
—  the  Honourable  Timothy  avers  —  at  his  hands,  or  any 
one's.  Not  merely  an  idealist,  but  a  practical  man  who 
has  studied  the  needs  of  the  State  ;  unselfish  to  the  core  ; 
longing,  like  Washington,  the  Father  of  his  Country,  to 
remain  in  a  beautiful  country  home,  where  he  dispenses 
hospitality  with  a  flowing  hand  to  poor  and  rich  alike,  yet 
harking  to  the  call  of  duty.  Leaving,  like  the  noble 
Roman  of  old,  his  plough  in  the  furrow  —  (Same  voice 


450  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

as  before,  "  I  wish  he'd  left  his  automo'bil'  thar  !  "  Hisses 
and  laughter.)  The  Honourable  Timothy,  undaunted, 
snatches  his  hand  from  the  breast  of  his  Prince  Albert 
and  flings  it,  with  a  superb  gesture,  towards  the  Pelican. 
"  Gentlemen,  I  have  the  honour  to  nominate  to  this  con 
vention  that  peerless  leader  for  the  right,  the  Honourable 
Humphrey  Crewe  of  Leith  —  our  next  governor." 

General  Andrew  Jackson  himself,  had  he  been  alive 
and  on  this  historic  ground  and  chairman  of  that  con 
vention,  could  scarce  have  quelled  the  tumult  aroused  by 
this  name  and  this  speech  —  much  less  General  Doby. 
Although  a  man  of  presence,  measurable  by  scales  with 
weights  enough,  our  general  has  no  more  ponderosity 
now  than  a  leaf  in  a  mountain  storm  at  Hale — and  no 
more  control  over  the  hurricane.  Behold  him  now,  pound 
ing  with  his  gavel  on  something  which  should  give  forth 
a  sound,  but  doesn't.  Who  is  he  (to  change  the  speech's 
figure  —  not  the  general's),  who  is  he  to  drive  a  wild 
eight-horse  team,  who  is  fit  only  to  conduct  Mr.  Flint's 
oxen  in  years  gone  by  ? 

It  is  a  memorable  scene,  sketched  to  life  for  the 
metropolitan  press.  The  man  on  the  chair,  his  face 
lighted  by  a  fanatic  enthusiasm,  is  the  Honourable 
Hamilton  Tooting,  coatless  and  collarless,  leading  the 
cheers  that  shake  the  building,  that  must  have  struck 
terror  to  the  soul  of  Augustus  P.  Flint  himself  —  fifty 
miles  away.  But  the  endurance  of  the  human  throat  is 
limited. 

Why,  in  the  name  of  political  strategy,  has  United 
States  Senator  Greene  been  chosen  to  nominate  the  Hon 
ourable  Giles  Henderson  of  Kingston  ?  Some  say  that 
it  is  the  will  of  highest  authority,  others  that  the  sen 
ator  is  a  close  friend  of  the  Honourable  Giles  —  buys  his 
coal  from  him,  wholesale.  Both  surmises  are  true.  The 
senator's  figure  is  not  impressive,  his  voice  less  so,  and 
he  reads  from  manuscript,  to  the  accompaniment  of  con 
tinual  cries  of  "  Louder ! "  A  hook  for  Leviathan  !  "A  great 
deal  of  dribble,"  said  the  senator,  for  little  rocks  sometimes 
strike  fire,  "  has  been  heard  about  the  '  will  of  the  people.' 


THE   ARENA  AND  THE   DUST  451 

The  Honourable  Giles  Henderson  is  beholden  to  no  man 
and  to  no  corporation,  and  will  go  into  office  prepared  to 
do  justice  impartially  to  all." 

But  —  copia  verborum  —  let  us  to  the  main  business  ! 

To  an  hundred  newspapers,  to  Mr.  Flint  at  Fairview, 
and  other  important  personages  ticks  out  the  momentous 
news  that  the  balloting  has  begun.  No  use  trying  to  hold 
your  breath  until  the  first  ballot  is  announced;  it  takes  time 
to  obtain  the  votes  of  one  thousand  men  —  especially  when 
neither  General  Doby  nor  any  one  else  knows  who  they  are! 
The  only  way  is  to  march  up  on  the  stage  by  counties 
and  file  past  the  ballot-box.  Putnam,  with  their  glitter- 
eyed  duke,  Mr.  Bascom,  at  their  head  —  presumably  solid 
for  Adam  B.  Hunt;  Baron  Burrows,  who  farms  out  the 
post-office  at  Edmundton,  leads  Edmunds  County;  Earl 
Elisha  Jane,  consul  at  some  hot  place  where  he  spends 
the  inclement  months,  drops  the  first  ticket  for  Haines 
County,  ostensibly  solid  for  home-made  virtue  and  the 
Honourable  Giles. 

An  hour  and  a  quarter  of  suspense  and  torture  passes, 
while  collars  wilt  and  coats  come  off,  and  fans  in  the 
gallery  wave  incessantly,  and  excited  conversation  buzzes 
in  every  quarter.  And  now,  see !  there  is  whispering  on 
the  stage  among  the  big-bugs.  Mr.  Chairman  Doby 
rises  with  a  paper  in  his  hand,  and  the  buzzing  dies  down 
to  silence. 

The  Honourable  Giles  Henderson  of  Kingston  has  .     .  398 

The  Honourable  Humphrey  Crewe  of  Leith'has   .     .     .  353 

The  Honourable  Adam  B.  Hunt  of  Edmundton  has .     .  249 

And  a  majority  being  required,  there  is  no  choice  1 

Are  the  supporters  of  the  People's  Champion  crest 
fallen,  think  you?  Mr.  Tooting  is  not  leading  them  for 
the  moment,  but  is  pressing  through  the  crowd  outside 
the  hall  and  flying  up  the  street  to  the  Pelican  and  the 
bridal  suite,  where  he  is  first  with  the  news.  Note  for 
an  unabridged  biography:  the  great  man  is  discovered 
sitting  quietly  by  the  window,  poring  over  a  book  on  the 
modern  science  of  road-buildinor,  some  notes  from  which 


452  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

he  is  making  for  his  first  message.  And  instead  of  the 
reek  of  tobacco  smoke,  the  room  is  filled  with  the  scent 
of  the  floral  tributes  brought  down  by  the  Ladies'  Aux 
iliary  from  Leith.  In  Mr.  Crewe's  right-hand  pocket, 
neatly  typewritten,  is  his  speech  of  acceptance.  He  is 
never  caught  unprepared.  Unkind,  now,  to  remind  him 
of  that  prediction  made  last  night  about  the  first  ballot 
to  the  newspapers  —  and  useless. 

"I  told  you  last  night  they  were  buyin'  'em  right  under 
our  noses,"  cried  Mr.  Tooting,  in  a  paroxysm  of  indigna 
tion,  "  and  you  wouldn't  believe  me.  They  got  over  one 
hundred  and  sixty  away  from  us." 

"  It  strikes  me,  Mr.  Tooting,"  said  Mr.  Crewe,  "  that 
it  was  your  business  to  prevent  that." 

There  will  no  doubt  be  a  discussion,  when  the 
biographer  reaches  this  juncture,  concerning  the  con- 
gruity  of  reform  delegates  who  can  be  bought.  It  is  too 
knotty  a  point  of  ethics  to  be  dwelt  upon  here. 

"Prevent  it!"  echoed  Mr.  Tooting,  and  in  the  strong 
light  of  the  righteousness  of  that  eye  reproaches  failed 
him.  "  But  there's  a  whole  lot  of  'em  can  be  seen,  right 
now,  while  the  ballots  are  being  taken.  It  won't  be 
decided  on  the  next  ballot." 

"  Mr.  Tooting,"  said  Mr.  Crewe,  indubitably  proving 
that  he  had  the  qualities  of  a  leader  —  if  such  proof  were 
necessary,  "  go  back  to  the  convention.  I  have  no 
doubt  of  the  outcome,  but  that  doesn't  mean  you  are  to 
relax  your  efforts.  Do  you  understand  ?  " 

"  I  guess  I  do,"  replied  Mr.  Tooting,  and  was  gone. 
"  He  still  has  his  flag  up,"  he  whispered  into  the  Honour 
able  Timothy  Watling's  ear,  when  he  reached  the  hall. 
"  He'll  stand  a  little  more  yet." 

Mr.  Tooting,  at  times,  speaks  a  language  unknown  to 
us  —  and  the  second  ballot  is  going  on.  And  during  its 
progress  the  two  principal  lieutenants  of  the  People's 
Champion  were  observed  going  about  the  hall  apparently 
exchanging  the  time  of  day  with  various  holders  of 
credentials.  Mr.  Jane,  too,  is  going  about  the  hall,  and 
Postmaster  Burrows,  and  Postmaster  Bill  Fleming  of 


THE  ARENA  AND   THE   DUST  453 

Brampton,  and  the  Honourable  Nat  Billings,  and  Messrs. 
Bascom  and  Botcher,  and  Mr.  Manning,  division  super 
intendent,  and  the  Honourable  Orrin  Young,  railroad 
commissioner  and  candidate  for  reappointment  —  all  are 
embracing  the  opportunity  to  greet  humble  friends  or  to 
make  new  acquaintances.  Another  hour  and  a  quarter, 
with  the  temperature  steadily  rising  and  the  carbon 
dioxide  increasing  —  and  the  second  ballot  is  announced. 

The  Honourable  Giles  Henderson  of  Kingston  has  .  .  440 
The  Honourable  Humphrey  Crewe  of  Leith  has  .  .  .  336 
The  Honourable  Adam  B.  Hunt  of  Edrnundton  has.  .  255 

And  there  are  three  votes  besides  improperly  made  out! 

What  the  newspapers  call  indescribable  excitement 
ensues.  The  three  votes  improperly  made  out  are  said 
to  be  trip  passes  accidentally  dropped  into  the  box  by  the 
supporters  of  the  Honourable  Elisha  Jane.  And  add  up 
the  sum  total  of  the  votes!  Thirty -one  votes  more  than 
there  are  credentials  in  the  hall!  Mystery  of  mysteries  — 
how  can  it  be  ?  The  ballot,  announces  General  Doby, 
after  endless  rapping,  is  a  blank.  Cheers,  recriminations, 
exultation,  disgust  of  decent  citizens,  attempts  by  twenty 
men  to  get  the  eye  of  the  president  (which  is  too  watery 
to  see  any  of  them),  and  rushes  for  the  platform  to  sug 
gest  remedies  or  ask  what  is  going  to  be  done  about  such 
palpable  fraud.  What  can  be  done  ?  Call  the  roll !  How 
in  blazes  can  you  call  the  roll  when  you  don't  know 
who's  here  ?  Messrs.  Jane,  Botcher,  Bascom,  and  Fleming 
are  not  disturbed,  and  improve  their  time.  Watling  and 
Tooting  rush  to  the  bridal  suite,  and  rush  back  again  to 
demand  justice.  General  Doby  mingles  his  tears  with 
theirs,  and  somebody  calls  him  a  jellyfish.  He  does  not 
resent  it.  Friction  makes  the  air  hotter  and  hotter  — 
Shadrach,  Meshach,  and  Abednego  would  scarce  enter  into 
this  furnace,  —  and  General  Doby  has  a  large  damp  spot 
on  his  back  as  he  pounds  and  pounds  and  pounds  until 
we  are  off  again  on  the  third  ballot.  No  dinner,  and 
three-thirty  P.M.!  Two  delegates  have  fainted,  but  the 
essential  parts  of  them — the  credentials — are  left  behind. 


454  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

Four-forty,  whispering  again,  and  the  gavel  drops. 

The  Honourable  Giles  Henderson  of  Kingston  has   .  .  412 

The  Honourable  Humphrey  Crewe  of  Leith  has  .     .  .  325 

The  Honourable  Adam  B.  Hunt  of  Ednmndton  has .  .  250 

And  there  is  no  choice  on  the  third  ballot  1 

Thirteen  delegates  are  actually  missing  this  time.  Scour 
the  town  !  And  now  even  the  newspaper  adjectives  de 
scribing  the  scene  have  given  out.  A  persistent  and  ter 
rifying  rumour  goes  the  rounds, —  where's  Tom  Gaylord? 
Somebody  said  he  was  in  the  hall  a  moment  ago,  on  a 
Ripton  credential.  If  so,  he's  gone  out  again  —  gone  out 
to  consult  the  dark  horse,  who  is  in  town,  somewhere. 
Another  ominous  sign:  Mr.  Redbrook,  Mr.  Widgeon  of 
Hull,  and  the  other  rural  delegates  who  have  been  voting 
for  the  People's  Champion,  and  who  have  not  been 
observed  in  friendly  conversation  with  anybody  at  all, 
now  have  their  heads  together.  Mr.  Billings  goes  saun 
tering  by,  but  cannot  hear  what  they  are  saying.  Some 
thing  must  be  done,  and  right  away,  and  the  knowing 
metropolitan  reporters  are  winking  at  each  other  and 
declaring  darkly  that  a  sensation  is  about  to  turn  up. 

Where  is  Hilary  Vane?  Doesn't  he  realize  the  danger? 
Or — traitorous  thought! — doesn't  he  care?  To  see  his 
son  nominated  would  be  a  singular  revenge  for  the  indig 
nities  which  are  said  to  have  been  heaped  upon  him. 
Does  Hilary  Vane,  the  strong  man  of  the  State,  merely 
sit  at  the  keyboard,  powerless,  while  the  tempest  itself 
shakes  from  the  organ  a  new  and  terrible  music?  Nearly 
six  hours  he  has  sat  at  the  basswood  table,  while  senators, 
congressmen,  feudal  chiefs,  and  even  Chairman  Doby  him 
self  flit  in  and  out,  whisper  in  his  ear,  set  papers  before 
him,  and  figures  and  problems,  and  telegrams  from  high 
est  authority.  He  merely  nods  his  head,  says  a  word  now 
and  then,  or  holds  his  peace.  Does  he  know  what  he's 
about?  If  they  had  not  heard  things  concerning  his 
health,  —  and  other  things,  —  they  would  still  feel  safe. 
He  seems  the  only  calm  man  to  be  found  in  the  hall  — 
but  is  the  calm  aberration  ? 


THE   ARENA  AND  THE   DUST  455 

A  conference  in  the  corner  of  the  platform,  while  the 
fourth  ballot  is  progressing,  is  held  between  Senators 
Whitredge  and  Greene,  Mr.  Ridout  and  Mr.  Manning. 
So  far  the  Honourable  Hilary  has  apparently  done  nothing 
but  let  the  storm  take  its  course;  a  wing-footed  messenger 
has  returned  who  has  seen  Mr.  Thomas  Gaylord  walking 
rapidly  up  Maple  Street,  and  Austen  Vane  (most  astute 
and  reprehensible  of  politicians)  is  said  to  be  at  the 
Widow  Peasley's,  quietly  awaiting  the  call.  The  name  of 
Austen  Vane  —  another  messenger  says  —  is  running  like 
wildfire  through  the  hall,  from  row  to  row.  Mr.  Crewe 
has  no  chance  —  so  rumour  goes.  A  reformer  (to  pervert 
the  saying  of  a  celebrated  contemporary  humorist)  must 
fight  Marquis  of  Queensberry  to  win ;  and  the  People's 
Champion,  it  is  averred,  has  not.  Shrewd  country  dele 
gates  who  had  listened  to  the  Champion's  speeches  and 
had  come  to  the  capital  prepared  to  vote  for  purity,  had 
been  observing  the  movements  since  yesterday  of  Mr. 
Tooting  and  Mr.  Watling  with  no  inconsiderable  interest. 
Now  was  the  psychological  moment  for  Austen  Vane,  but 
who  was  to  beard  Hilary  ? 

No  champion  was  found,  and  the  Empire,  the  fate  of 
which  was  in  the  hands  of  a  madman,  was  cracking. 
Let  an  individual  of  character  and  known  anti-railroad 
convictions  (such  as  the  gentleman  said  to  be  at  the 
Widow  Peasley's)  be  presented  to  the  convention,  and  they 
would  nominate  him.  Were  Messrs.  Bascom  and  Botcher 
going  to  act  the  part  of  Samsons  ?  Were  they  working  for 
revenge  and  a  new  regime  ?  Mr.  Whitredge  started  for 
the  Pelican,  not  at  his  ordinary  senatorial  gait,  to  get  Mr. 
Flint  on  the  telephone. 

The  result  of  the  fourth  ballot  was  announced,  and 
bedlam  broke  loose. 

The  Honourable  Giles  Henderson  of  Kingston  has  .  .419 
The  Honourable  Humphrey  Crewe  of  Leith  has  .  .  .  337 
The  Honourable  Adam  B.  Hunt  of  Edmundton  has  .  256 

Total,  one  thousand  and  eleven  out  of  a  thousand  !  Two 
delegates  abstained  from  voting,  and  proclaimed  the  fact, 


456  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

but  were  heard  only  a  few  feet  away.  Other  delegates, 
whose  flesh  and  blood  could  stand  the  atmosphere  no 
longer,  were  known  to  have  left  the  hall !  Aha !  the 
secret  is  out,  if  anybody  could  hear  it.  At  the  end  of 
every  ballot  several  individuals  emerge  and  mix  with  the 
crowd  in  the  street.  Astute  men  sometimes  make  mis 
takes,  and  the  following  conversation  occurs  between  one 
of  the  individuals  in  question  and  Mr.  Crewe's  chauffeur. 

Individual:  Do  you  want  to  come  in  and  see  the  con 
vention  and  vote  ? 

Chauffeur:  I  am  Frenchman. 

Individual:  That  doesn't  cut  any  ice.  I'll  make  out 
the  ballot,  and  all  you'll  have  to  do  is  to  drop  it  in  the 
box. 

Chauffeur :  All  right ;  I  vote  for  Meester  Crewe. 

Sudden  disappearance  of  the  individual. 

Nor  is  this  all.  The  Duke  of  Putnam,  for  example, 
knows  how  many  credentials  there  are  in  his  county  —  say, 
seventy-six.  He  counts  the  men  present  and  voting,  and 
his  result  is  sixty-one.  Fifteen  are  absent,  getting  food 
or — something  else.  Fifteen  vote  over  again.  But,  as 
the  human  brain  is  prone  to  error,  and  there  are  men  in 
the  street,  the  Duke  miscalculates  ;  the  Earl  of  Haines 
miscalculates,  too.  Result  —  eleven  over  a  thousand  votes, 
and  some  nine  hundred  men  in  the  hall ! 

How  are  you  going  to  stop  it  ?  Mr.  Watling  climbs 
up  on  the  platform  and  shakes  his  fist  in  General  Doby's 
face,  and  General  Doby  tearfully  appeals  for  an  honest 
ballot  —  to  the  winds. 

In  the  meantime  the  Honourable  Elisha  Jane,  spurred 
on  by  desperation  and  thoughts  of  a  dolcefar  niente  gone 
forever,  has  sought  and  cornered  Mr.  Bascom. 

"  For  God's  sake,  Brush,"  cries  the  Honourable  Elisha, 
" hasn't  this  thing  gone  far  enough?  A  little  of  it  is  all 
right  —  the  boys  understand  that ;  but  have  you  thought 
what  it  means  to  you  and  me  if  these  blanked  reformers 
get  in,  —  if  a  feller  like  Austen  Vane  is  nominated  ?  " 

That  cold,  hard  glitter  which  we  have  seen  was  in  Mr. 
Bascom's  eyes. 


THE   ARENA  AND   THE   DUST  457 

"  You  fellers  have  got  the  colic,"  was  the  remark  of  the 
arch-rebel.  "  Do  you  think  old  Hilary  doesn't  know 
what  he's  about  ?  " 

"  It  looks  that  way  to  me,"  said  Mr.  Jane. 

"  It  looks  that  way  to  Doby  too,  I  guess,"  said  Mr.  Bas- 
com,  with  a  glance  of  contempt  at  the  general ;  "  he's  lost 
about  fifteen  pounds  to-day.  Did  Hilary  send  you  down 
here  ?  "  he  demanded. 

"  No,"  Mr.  Jane  confessed. 

"  Then  go  back  and  chase  yourself  around  the  platform 
some  more,"  was  Mr.  Bascom's  unfeeling  advice,  "and 
don't  have  a  fit  here.  All  the  brains  in  this  hall  are  in 
Hilary's  room.  When  he's  ready  to  talk  business  with 
me  in  behalf  of  the  Honourable  Giles  Henderson,  I  guess 
he'll  do  so." 

But  fear  had  entered  the  heart  of  the  Honourable 
Elisha,  and  there  was  a  sickly  feeling  in  the  region  of  his 
stomach  which  even  the  strong  medicine  administered  by 
the  Honourable  Brush  failed  to  alleviate.  He  perceived 
Senator  Whitredge,  returned  from  the  Pelican.  But  the 
advice — if  any  —  the  president  of  the  Northeastern  has 
given  the  senator  is  not  forthcoming  in  practice.  Mr. 
Flint,  any  more  than  Ulysses  himself,  cannot  recall  the 
tempests  when  his  own  followers  have  slit  the  bags  —  and 
in  sight  of  Ithaca  !  Another  conference  at  the  back  of  the 
stage,  out  of  which  emerges  State  Senator  Nat  Billings 
and  gets  the  ear  of  General  Doby. 

"  Let  'em  yell,"  says  Mr.  Billings  —  as  though  the  gen 
eral,  by  raising  one  adipose  hand,  could  quell  the  storm. 
Eyes  are  straining,  scouts  are  watching  at  the  back  of  the 
hall  and  in  the  street,  for  the  first  glimpse  of  the  dreaded 
figure  of  Mr.  Thomas  Gaylord.  "  Let  'em  yell,"  counsels 
Mr.  Billings,  "and  if  they  do  nominate  anybody  nobody  '11 
hear  'em.  And  send  word  to  Putnam  County  to  come 
along  on  their  fifth  ballot." 

It  is  Mr.  Billings  himself  who  sends  word  to  Putnam 
County,  in  the  name  of  the  convention's  chairman.  Be 
fore  the  messenger  can  reach  Putnam  County  another 
arrives  on  the  stage,  with  wide  pupils  —  "  Tom  Gaylord 


458  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

is  coming  !  "  This  momentous  news,  Marconi-like,  pene 
trates  the  storm,  and  is  already  on  the  floor.  Mr.  Wid 
geon  and  Mr.  Redbrook  are  pushing  their  way  towards  the 
door.  The  conference,  emboldened  by  terror,  marches  in  a 
body  into  the  little  room,  and  surrounds  the  calmly  insane 
Lieutenant-general  of  the  forces ;  it  would  be  ill-natured 
to  say  that  visions  of  lost  railroad  commissionerships,  lost 
consulships,  lost  postmasterships,  —  yes,  of  lost  senator- 
ships,  were  in  these  loyal  heads  at  this  crucial  time. 

It  was  all  very  well  (so  said  the  first  spokesman)  to 
pluck  a  few  feathers  from  a  bird  so  bountifully  endowed 
as  the  Honourable  Adam,  but  were  not  two  gentlemen 
who  should  be  nameless  carrying  the  joke  a  little  too  far  ? 
Mr.  Vane  unquestionably  realized  what  he  was  doing, 
but  —  was  it  not  almost  time  to  call  in  the  two  gentlemen 
and  —  and  come  to  some  understanding? 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  the  Honourable  Hilary,  apparently 
unmoved,  "  I  have  not  seen  Mr.  Bascom  or  Mr.  Botcher 
since  the  sixteenth  day  of  August,  and  I  do  not  intend  to." 

Some  clearing  of  throats  followed  this  ominous  declara 
tion, —  and  a  painful  silence.  The  thing  must  be  said  — 
and  who  would  say  it  ?  Senator  Whitredge  was  the  hero. 

Mr.  Thomas  Gaylord  has  just  entered  the  convention 
hall,  and  is  said  to  be  about  to  nominate  —  a  dark  horse. 
The  moment  was  favourable,  the  convention  demoralized, 
and  at  least  one  hundred  delegates  had  left  the  hall.  (How 
about  the  last  ballot,  Senator,  which  showed  1011  ?) 

The  Honourable  Hilary  rose  abruptly,  closed  the  door 
to  shut  out  the  noise,  and  turned  and  looked  Mr.  Whit 
redge  in  the  eye. 

"  Who  is  the  4  dark  horse '  ?  "  he  demanded. 

The  members  of  the  conference  coughed  again,  looked 
at  each  other,  and  there  was  a  silence.  For  some  inex 
plicable  reason,  nobody  cared  to  mention  the  name  of 
Austen  Vane. 

The  Honourable  Hilary  pointed  at  the  basswood  table. 

"  Senator,"  he  said, "  I  understand  you  have  been  telephon 
ing  Mr.  Flint.  Have  you  got  orders  to  sit  down  there  ?  " 

"  My  dear  sir,"  said  the  Senator, "  you  misunderstand  me." 


THE  ARENA  AND   THE   DUST  459 

"  Have  you  got  orders  to  sit  down  there  ?  "  Mr.  Vane 
repeated. 

"  No,"  answered  the  Senator ;  "  Mr.  Flint's  confidence  in 
you  —  " 

The  Honourable  Hilary  sat  down  again,  and  at  that 
instant  the  door  was  suddenly  flung  open  by  Postmas 
ter  Bill  Fleming  of  Brampton,  his  genial  face  aflame  with 
excitement  and  streaming  with  perspiration.  Forgotten, 
in  this  moment,  is  senatorial  courtesy  and  respect  for  the 
powers  of  the  feudal  system. 

"  Say,  boys,"  he  cried,  "  Putnam  County's  voting,  and 
there's  be'n  no  nomination  and  ain't  likely  to  be.  Jim 
Scudder,  the  station-master  at  Wye,  is  here  on  credentials, 
and  he  says  for  sure  the  thing's  fizzled  out,  and  Tom  Gay- 
lord's  left  the  hall !  " 

Again  a  silence,  save  for  the  high  hum  let  in  through 
the  open  doorway.  The  members  of  the  conference 
stared  at  the  Honourable  Hilary,  who  seemed  to  have 
forgotten  their  presence;  for  he  had  moved  his  chair  to 
the  window,  and  was  gazing  out  over  the  roofs  at  the 
fast-fading  red  in  the  western  sky. 

An  hour  later,  when  the  room  was  in  darkness  save 
for  the  bar  of  light  that  streamed  in  from  the  platform 
chandelier,  Senator  Whitredge  entered. 

"  Hilary  !  "  he  said. 

There  was  no  answer.  Mr.  Whitredge  felt  in  his 
pocket  for  a  match,  struck  it,  and  lighted  the  single  jet 
over  the  basswood  table.  Mr.  Vane  still  sat  by  the 
window.  The  senator  turned  and  closed  the  door,  and 
read  from  a  paper  in  his  hand ;  so  used  was  he  to  formal 
ity  that  he  read  it  formally,  yet  with  a  feeling  of  intense 
relief,  of  deference,  of  apology. 

"  Fifth  ballot :  — 

The  Honourable  Giles  Henderson  of  Kingston  has  .  .  587 
The  Honourable  Adam  B.  Hunt  of  Edmundton  has.  .  230 
The  Honourable  Humphrey  Crewe  of  Leith  has  .  .  .  154 

And  Giles  Henderson  is  nominated —  Hilary?" 
"  Yes,"  said  Mr.  Vane. 


460  MR.   CREWE'S  CAREER 

"  I  don't  think  any  of  us  were  —  quite  ourselves  to-day. 
It  wasn't  that  we  didn't  believe  in  you — but  we  didn't 
have  all  the  threads  in  our  hands,  and  —  for  reasons  which 
I  think  I  can  understand — you  didn't  take  us  into  your 
confidence.  I  want  to  —  " 

The  words  died  on  the  senator's  lips.  So  absorbed  had 
he  been  in  his  momentous  news,  and  solicitous  over  the 
result  of  his  explanation,  that  his  eye  looked  outward  for 
the  first  time,  and  even  then  accidentally. 

"  Hilary !  "  he  cried ;  "  for  God's  sake,  what's  the 
matter?  Are  you  sick?" 

"  Yes,  Whitredge,"  said  Mr.  Vane,  slowly,  "  sick  at 
heart." 

It  was  but  natural  that  these  extraordinary  and  incom 
prehensible  words  should  have  puzzled  and  frightened 
the  senator  more  than  ever. 

"  Your  heart !  "  he  repeated. 

"  Yes,  my  heart,"  said  Hilary. 

The  senator  reached  for  the  ice-water  on  the  table. 

"Here,"  he  cried,  pouring  out  a  glass,  "it's  only  the 
heat  —  it's  been  a  hard  day  —  drink  this." 

But  Hilary  did  not  raise  his  arm.  The  door  opened  — 
others  coming  to  congratulate  Hilary  Vane  on  the  greatest 
victory  he  had  ever  won.  Offices  were  secure  once  more, 
the  feudal  system  intact,  and  rebels  justly  punished;  others 
coming  to  make  their  peace  with  the  commander  whom, 
senseless  as  they  were,  they  had  dared  to  doubt. 

They  crowded  past  each  other  on  the  threshold,  and 
stood  grouped  beyond  the  basswood  table,  staring  — 
staring  —  men  suddenly  come  upon  a  tragedy  instead 
of  a  feast,  the  senator  still  holding  the  glass  of  water  in 
a  hand  that  trembled  and  spilled  it.  And  it  was  the 
senator,  after  all,  who  first  recovered  his  presence  of 
mind.  He  set  down  the  water,  pushed  his  way  through 
the  group  into  the  hall,  where  the  tumult  and  the  shout 
ing  die.  Mr.  Giles  Henderson,  escorted,  is  timidly  mak 
ing  his  way  towards  the  platform  to  read  his  speech  of 
acceptance  of  a  willing  bondage,  when  a  voice  rings 
out:  — 


THE   ARENA  AND  THE   DUST  461 

"If  there  is  a  physician  in  the  house,  will  he  please 
come  forward?" 

And  then  a  hush,  —  and  then  the  buzz  of  comment. 
Back  to  the  little  room  once  more,  where  they  are  gath 
ered  speechless  about  Hilary  Vane.  And  the  doctor 
comes  —  young  Dr.  Tredway  of  Ripton,  who  is  before  all 
others. 

"  I  expected  this  to  happen,  gentlemen,"  he  said,  "  and 
I  have  been  here  all  day,  at  the  request  of  Mr.  Vane's  son, 
for  this  purpose." 

"  Austen !  " 

It  was  Hilary  who  spoke. 

"I  have  sent  for  him,"  said  the  doctor.  "And  now, 
gentlemen,  if  you  will  kindly  —  " 

They  withdrew  and  the  doctor  shut  the  door.  Out 
side,  the  Honourable  Giles  is  telling  them  how  seriously 
he  regards  the  responsibility  of  the  honour  thrust  upon 
him  by  a  great  party.  But  nobody  hears  him  in  the  wild 
rumours  that  fly  from  mouth  to  mouth  as  the  hall  empties. 
Rushing  in  against  the  tide  outpouring,  tall,  stern,  vigor 
ous,  is  a  young  man  whom  many  recognize,  whose  name 
is  on  many  lips  as  they  make  way  for  him,  who  might 
have  saved  them  if  he  would.  The  door  of  the  little 
room  opens,  and  he  stands  before  his  father,  looking  down 
at  him.  And  the  stern  expression  is  gone  from  his  face. 

"  Austen  !  "  said  Mr.  Vane. 

"Yes,  Judge." 

"Take  me  away  from  here.  Take  me  home  —  now  — 
to-night." 

Austen  glanced  at  Dr.  Tredway. 

"  It  is  best,"  said  the  doctor ;  "  we  will  take  him  home 
—  to-night." 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

THE   VOICE   OF   AN  ERA 

THEY  took  him  home,  in  the  stateroom  of  the  sleeper 
attached  to  the  night  express  from  the  south,  although 
Mr.  Flint,  by  telephone,  hud  put  a  special  train  at  his  dis 
posal.  The  long  service  of  Hilary  Vane  was  over;  he  had 
won  his  last  fight  for  the  man  he  had  chosen  to  call  his 
master;  and  those  who  had  fought  behind  him,  whose 
places,  whose  very  luminary  existences,  had  depended  on 
his  skill,  knew  that  the  end  had  come ;  nay,  were  already 
speculating,  manoeuvring,  and  taking  sides.  Who  would 
be  the  new  Captain-general  ?  Who  would  be  strong 
enough  to  suppress  the  straining  ambitions  of  the  many 
that  the  Empire  might  continue  to  flourish  in  its  integrity 
and  gather  tribute  ?  It  is  the  world-old  cry  around  the 
palace  walls  :  Long  live  the  new  ruler  —  if  you  can  find 
him  among  the  curdling  factions. 

They  carried  Hilary  home  that  September  night,  when 
Sawanec  was  like  a  gray  ghost-mountain  facing  the  wan 
ing  moon,  back  to  the  home  of  those  strange,  Renaissance 
Austens  which  he  had  reclaimed  for  a  grim  puritanism, 
and  laid  him  in  the  carved  and  canopied  bedstead  Chan- 
ning  Austen  had  brought  from  Spain.  Kuphrasia  hud 
met  them  at  the  door,  but  a  trained  nurse  from  tliu  Ripton 
hospital  was  likewise  in  waiting;  and  a  New  York  special 
ist  had  been  summoned  to  prolong,  if  possible,  the  life  of 
one  from  whom  all  desire  for  life  had  passed. 

Before  sunrise  a  wind  came  from  the  northern  spruces; 
the  dawn  was  cloudless,  fiery  red,  and  the  air  had  an 
autumn  sharpness.  At  ten  o'clock  Dr.  Harmon  arrived, 
was  met  at  the  station  by  Austen,  and  spent  half  an  hour 
with  Dr.  Tredway.  At  noon  the  examination  was  com- 

4G2 


THE  VOICE  OF  AN  ERA  463 

plete.  Thanks  to  generations  of  self-denial  by  the  Vanes 
of  Camden  Street,  Mr.  Hilary  Vane  might  live  indefinitely, 
might  even  recover,  partially;  but  at  present  he  was  con 
demned  to  remain,  with  his  memories,  in  the  great  canopied 
bed. 

The  Honourable  Hilary  had  had  another  caller  that 
morning  besides  Dr.  Harmon,  —  no  less  a  personage  than 
the  president  of  the  Northeastern  Railroads  himself,  who 
had  driven  down  from  Fairview  immediately  after  break 
fast.  Austen  having  gone  to  the  station,  Dr.  Tredway 
had  received  Mr.  Flint  in  the  darkened  hall,  and  had 
promised  to  telephone  to  Fairview  the  verdict  of  the 
specialist.  At  present  Dr.  Tredway  did  not  think  it  wise 
to  inform  Hilary  of  Mr.  Flint's  visit — not,  at  least,  until 
after  the  examination. 

Mr.  Vane  exhibited  the  same  silent  stoicism  on  receiv 
ing  the  verdict  of  Dr.  Harmon  as  he  had  shown  from  the 
first.  With  the  clew  to  Hilary's  life  which  Dr.  Tredway 
had  given  him,  the  New  York  physician  understood  the 
case;  one  common  enough  in  his  practice  in  a  great  city 
where  the  fittest  survive  —  sometimes  only  to  succumb 
to  unexpected  and  irreparable  blows  in  the  evening  of 
life. 

On  his  return  from  seeing  Dr.  Harmon  off  Austen  was 
met  on  the  porch  by  Dr.  Tredway. 

"  Your  father  has  something  on  his  mind,"  said  the 
doctor,  "and  perhaps  it  is  just  as  well  that  he  should  be 
relieved.  He  is  asking  for  you,  and  I  merely  wished  to 
advise  you  to  make  the  conversation  as  short  as  possible." 

Austen  climbed  the  stairs  in  obedience  to  this  summons, 
and  stood  before  his  father  at  the  bedside.  Hilary  lay 
back  among  the  pillows,  and  the  brightness  of  that  autumn 
noonday  only  served  to  accentuate  the  pallor  of  his  face, 
the  ravages  of  age  which  had  come  with  such  incredible 
swiftness,  and  the  outline  of  a  once  vigorous  frame.  The 
eyes  alone  shone  with  a  strange  ne-y  light,  and  Austen  found 
it  unexpectedly  difficult  to  spean:.  He  sat  down  on  the 
bed  and  laid  his  hand  on  the  helpless  one  that  rested  on 
the  coverlet. 


464  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

"  Austen,"  said  Mr.  Vane,  "  I  want  you  to  go  to  Fair- 
view." 

His  son's  hand  tightened  over  his  own. 

"Yes,  Judge." 

"I  want  you  to  go  now." 

"Yes,  Judge." 

"  You  know  the  combination  of  my  safe  at  the  office. 
It's  never  been  changed  since  —  since  you  were  there. 
Open  it.  You  will  find  two  tin  boxes,  containing  papers 
labelled  Augustus  P.  Flint.  I  want  you  to  take  them 
to  Fairview  and  put  them  into  the  hands  of  Mr.  Flint 
himself.  I  —  I  cannot  trust  any  one  else.  I  promised 
to  take  them  myself,  but  —  Flint  will  understand." 

"  I'll  go  right  away,"  said  Austen,  rising,  and  trying  to 
speak  cheerfully.  "  Mr.  Flint  was  here  early  this  morn 
ing —  inquiring  for  you." 

Hilary  Vane's  lips  trembled,  and  another  expression 
came  into  his  eyes. 

"  Rode  down  to  look  at  the  scrap-heap,  —  did  he  ?  " 

Austen  strove  to  conceal  his  surprise  at  his  father's 
words  and  change  of  manner. 

"Tredway  saw  him,"  he  said.  "I'm  pretty  sure  Mr. 
Flint  doesn't  feel  that  way,  Judge.  He  has  taken  your 
illness  very  much  to  heart,  I  know,  and  he  left  some  fruit 
and  flowers  for  you." 

"  I  guess  his  daughter  sent  those,"  said  Hilary. 

"  His  daughter!  "  Austen  repeated. 

"  If  I  didn't  think  so,"  Mr.  Vane  continued,  "  I'd  send 
'em  back.  I  never  knew  what  she  was  until  she  picked 
me  up  and  drove  me  down  here.  I've  always  done  Vic 
toria  an  injustice." 

Austen  walked  to  the  door,  and  turned  slowly. 

"  I'll  go  at  once,  Judge,"  he  said. 

In  the  kitchen  he  was  confronted  by  Euphrasia. 

"  When  is  that  woman  going  away  ?  "  she  demanded. 
"  I've  took  care  of  Hilary  Vane  nigh  on  to  forty  years, 
and  I  guess  I  know  as  much  about  nursing,  and  more 
about  Hilary,  than  that  young  thing  with  her  cap  and 
apron.  I  told  Dr.  Tredway  so.  She  even  came  down 


THE  VOICE  OF  AN  ERA  465 

here  to  let  me  know  what  to  cook  for  him,  and  I  sent  her 
about  her  business." 

Austen  smiled.  It  was  the  first  sign,  since  his  return 
the  night  before,  Euphrasia  had  given  that  an  affection 
for  Hilary  Vane  lurked  beneath  the  burr  of  that  strange 
nature. 

"  She  won't  stay  long,  Phrasie,"  he  answered,  and  added 
mischievously,  "fora  very  good  reason." 

"  And  what's  that  ?  "  asked  Euphrasia. 

"  Because  you  won't  allow  her  to.  I  have  a  notion  that 
she'll  pack  up  and  leave  in  about  three  days,  and  that  all 
the  doctors  in  Ripton  couldn't  keep  her  here." 

"  Get  along  with  you,"  said  Euphrasia,  who  could  not 
for  the  life  of  her  help  looking  a  little  pleased. 

"  I'm  going  off  for  a  few  hours,"  he  said  more  seriously. 
"  Dr.  Tredway  tells  me  they  do  not  look  for  any  develop 
ments  —  for  the  worse." 

44  Where  are  you  going  ?  "  asked  Euphrasia,  sharply. 

"  To  Fairview,"  he  said. 

Euphrasia  moved  the  kettle  to  another  part  of  the  stove. 

44  You'll  see  her  ?  "  she  said. 

44  Who  ?  "  Austen  asked.  But  his  voice  must  have  be 
trayed  him  a  little,  for  Euphrasia  turned  and  seized  him 
by  the  elbows  and  looked  up  into  his  face. 

44  Victoria,"  she  said. 

He  felt  himself  tremble  at  the  name,  —  at  the  strange 
ness  of  its  sound  on  Euphrasia's  lips. 

44 1  do  not  expect  to  see  Miss  Flint,"  he  answered,  con 
trolling  himself  as  well  as  he  was  able.  44 1  have  an  errand 
for  the  Judge  with  Mr.  Flint  himself." 

Euphrasia  had  guessed  his  secret !     But  how  ? 

"  Hadn't  you  better  see  her  ?  "  said  Euphrasia,  in  a  curious 
monotone. 

44  But  I  have  no  errand  with  her,"  he  objected,  mystified 
yet  excited  by  Euphrasia's  manner. 

44  She  fetched  Hilary  home,"  said  Euphrasia. 

44  Yes." 

44  She   couldn't  have   be'n   kinder  if   she  was  his  own 
daughter." 
2* 


466  MR.   CREWE'S  CAREER 

"  I  know  —  "  he  began,  but  Euphrasia  interrupted. 

"  She  sent  that  Englishman  for  the  doctor,  and  waited 
to  take  the  news  to  her  father,  and  she  came  out  in  this 
kitchen  and  talked  to  me." 

Austen  started.  Euphrasia  was  not  looking  at  him  now, 
and  suddenly  she  dropped  his  arms  and  went  to  the  win 
dow  overlooking  the  garden. 

"  She  wouldn't  go  in  the  parlour,  but  come  right  out 
here  in  her  fine  clothes.  I  told  her  I  didn't  think  she  be 
longed  in  a  kitchen  —  but  I  guess  I  did  her  an  injustice," 
said  Euphrasia,  slowly. 

"  I  think  you  did,"  he  said,  and  wondered. 

"  She  looked  at  that  garden,"  Euphrasia  went  on,  "  and 
cried  out.  I  didn't  callate  she  was  like  that.  And  the 
first  thing  I  knew  I  was  talking  about  your  mother,  and 
I'd  forgot  who  I  was  talking  to.  She  wahn't  like  a  stranger 

—  it  was  just  as  if  I'd  known  her  always.     I  haven't  un 
derstood  it  yet.     And  after  a  while  I  told  her  about  that 
verse,  and  she  wanted  to  see  it  —  the  verse  about  the  sky 
lark,  you  know  —  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Austen. 

"  Well,  the  way  she  read  it  made  me  cry,  it  brought  back 
Sarah  Austen  so.  Somehow,  I  can't  account  for  it,  she 
puts  me  in  mind  of  your  mother." 

Austen  did  not  speak. 

"  In  more  ways  than  one,"  said  Euphrasia.  "  I  didn't 
look  to  find  her  so  natural  —  and  so  gentle.  And  then 
she  has  a  way  of  scolding  you,  just  as  Sarah  Austen  had, 
that  you'd  never  suspect." 

"  Did  she  scold  you  —  Phrasie  ?  "  asked  Austen.  And 
the  irresistible  humour  that  is  so  near  to  sorrow  made  him 
smile  again. 

"  Indeed  she  did!  And  it  surprised  me  some  —  coming 
right  out  of  a  summer  sky.  I  told  her  what  I  thought 
about  Hilary,  and  how  he'd  driven  you  out  of  your  own 
mother's  house.  She  said  you'd  ought  to  be  sent  for,  and 
I  said  you  oughtn't  to  set  foot  in  this  house  until  Hilary 
sent  for  you.  She  said  I'd  no  right  to  take  such  a  revenge 

—  that  you'd  come  right  away  if  you  knew  Hilary'd  had 


X 

THE  VOICE  OF  AN  ERA  467 

a  stroke,  and  that  Hilary 'd  never  send  for  you  —  because  he 
couldn't.  She  said  he  was  like  a  man  on  a  desert  island." 

"  She  was  right,"  answered  Austen. 

"  I  don't  know  about  that,"  saidEuphrasia;  "she  hadn't 
put  up  with  Hilary  for  forty  years,  as  I  had,  and  seen  what 
he'd  done  to  your  mother  and  you.  But  that's  what  she 
said.  And  she  went  for  you  herself,  when  she  found  the 
doctor  couldn't  go.  Austen,  ain't  you  going  to  see  her?  " 

Austen  shook  his  head  gently,  and  smiled  at  her. 

"  I'm  afraid  it's  no  use,  Phrasie,"  he  said.  "  Just  be 
cause  she  has  been  —  kind,  we  mustn't  be  deceived.  It's 
her  nature  to  be  kind." 

Euphrasia  crossed  the  room  swiftly,  and  seized  his  arm 
again. 

44  She  loves  you,  Austen,"  she  cried;  "she  loves  you.  Do 
you  think  that  I'd  love  her,  that  I'd  plead  for  her,  if  she 
didn't  ?  " 

Austen's  breath  came  deeply.  He  disengaged  himself, 
and  went  to  the  window. 

"  No,"  he  said,  "  you  don't  know.  You  can't  know.  I 
have  only  seen  her  —  a  few  times.  She  lives  a  different 
life  —  and  with  other  people.  She  will  marry  a  man  who 
can  give  her  more." 

"  Do  you  think  I  could  be  deceived  ? "  exclaimed 
Euphrasia,  almost  fiercely.  "  It's  as  true  as  the  sun  shining 
on  that  mountain.  You  believe  she  loves  the  Englishman, 
but  I  tell  you  she  loves  you  —  you." 

He  turned  towards  her. 

4 'How  do  you  know?"  he  asked,  as  though  he  were 
merely  curious. 

44  Because  I'm  a  woman,  and  she's  a  woman,"  said  Eu 
phrasia.  t4  Oh,  she  didn't  confess  it.  If  she  had,  I  shouldn't 
think  so  much  of  her.  But  she  told  me  as  plain  as  though 
she  had  spoken  it  in  words,  before  she  left  this  room." 

Austen  shook  his  head  again. 

44  Phrasie,"  he  said,  44  I'm  afraid  you've  been  building 
castles  in  Spain."  And  he  went  out,  and  across  to  the 
stable  to  harness  Pepper. 

Austen  did  not  believe  Euphrasia.     On  that  eventful 


468  MR.   CREWE'S  CAREER 

evening  when  Victoria  had  called  at  Jabe  Jenney's,  the 

world's  aspect  had  suddenly  changed  for  him  ;  old  values 

had  faded,  —  values  which,  after  all,  had  been  but  tints  and 

glows,  —  and  sterner  but  truer  colours  took  their  places. 

o    He  saw  Victoria's  life  in  a  new  perspective, —  one  in  which 

%    his  was  but  a  small  place  in  the  background  of  her  nu- 

N^    merous  beneficences;  which  was,  after  all,  the  perspective 

in  which  he  had  first  viewed  it.     But,  by  degrees,  the 

hope  that  she  loved  him  had  grown  and  grown  until  it 

had   become   unconsciously  the  supreme  element  of   his 

existence, — the  hope  that  stole  sweetly  into  his  mind  with 

the  morning  light,  and  stayed  him  through  the  day,  and 

blended  into  the  dreams  of  darkness. 

By  inheritance,  by  tradition,  by  habits  of  thought,  Austen 
Vane  was  an  American,  —  an  American  as  differentiated 
from  the  citizen  of  any  other  nation  upon  the  earth.  The 
French  have  an  expressive  phrase  in  speaking  of  a  person 
as  belonging  to  this  or  that  world,  meaning  the  circle  by 
which  the  life  of  an  individual  is  bounded;  the  true  Amer 
ican  recognizes  these  circles  —  but  with  complacency,  and 
/  with  a  sure  knowledge  of  his  destiny  eventually  to  find 
himself  within  the  one  for  which  he  is  best  fitted  by  his 
talents  and  his  tastes.  The  mere  fact  that  Victoria 
had  been  brought  up  amongst  people  with  whom  he  had 
nothing  in  common  would  not  have  deterred  Austen  Vane 
from  pressing  his  suit;  considerations  of  honour  had  stood 
in  the  way,  and  hope  had  begun  to  whisper  that  these 
might,  in  the  end,  be  surmounted.  Once  they  had  disap 
peared,  and  she  loved  him,  that  were  excuse  and  reason 
enough. 

And  suddenly  the  sight  of  Victoria  with  a  probable  suitor 

—  who  at  once  had  become  magnified  into  an  accepted  suitor 

—  had  dispelled  hope.     Euphrasia!     Euphrasia  had  been 
deceived  as  he  had,  by  a  loving  kindness  and  a  charity  that 
were  natural.    But  what  so  natural  (to  one  who  had  lived 
the  life  of  Austen  Vane)  as  that  she  should  marry  amongst 
those  whose  ways  of  life  were  her  ways  ?     In  the  brief  time 
in  which  he  had  seen  her  and  this  other  man,  Austen's 
quickened  perceptions  had  detected  tacit  understanding, 


THE  VOICE  OF  AN  ERA  469 

community  of  interest,  a  habit  of  thought  and  manner,  —  in 
short,  a  common  language,  unknown  to  him,  between  the 
two.  And,  more  than  these,  the  Victoria  of  the  blissful 
excursions  he  had  known  was  changed  as  she  had  spoken  to 
him  —  constrained,  distant,  apart;  although  still  dispens 
ing  kindness,  going  out  of  her  way  to  bring  Hilary  home, 
and  to  tell  him  of  Hilary's  accident.  Rumour,  which 
cannot  be  confined  in  casks  or  bottles,  had  since  informed 
Austen  Vane  that  Mr.  Rangely  had  spent  the  day  with 
Victoria,  and  had  remained  at  Fairview  far  into  the  even 
ing;  rumour  went  farther  (thanks  to  Mrs.  Pomfret)  and 
declared  the  engagement  already  an  accomplished  fact. 
And  to  Austen,  in  the  twilight  in  front  of  Jabe  Jenney's, 
the  affair  might  well  have  assumed  the  proportions  of  an 
intimacy  of  long  standing  rather  than  that  of  the  chance  ac 
quaintance  of  an  hour.  Friends  in  common,  modes  of 
life  in  common,  and  incidents  in  common  are  apt  to  sweep 
away  preliminaries. 

Such  were  Austen's  thoughts  as  he  drove  to  Fairview 
that  September  afternoon  when  the  leaves  were  turning 
their  white  backs  to  the  northwest  breeze.  The  sun  was 
still  high,  and  the  distant  hills  and  mountains  were  as  yet 
scarce  stained  with  blue,  and  stood  out  in  startling  clear 
ness  against  the  sky.  Would  he  see  her  ?  That  were  a 
pain  he  scarce  dared  contemplate. 

He  reached  the  arched  entrance,  was  on  the  drive. 
Here  was  the  path  again  by  which  she  had  come  down  the 
hillside;  here  was  the  very  stone  on  which  she  had  stood 
—  awaiting  him.  Why  ?  Why  had  she  done  that  ? 
Well-remembered  figure  amidst  the  yellow  leaves  dancing 
in  the  sunlight  !  Here  he  had  stopped,  perforce,  and  here 
she  had  looked  up  into  his  face  and  smiled  and  spoken! 

At  length  he  gained  the  plateau  across  which  the 
driveway  ran,  between  round  young  maples,  straight  to 
Fairview  House,  and  he  remembered  the  stares  from  the 
tea-tables,  and  how  she  had  come  out  to  his  rescue.  Now 
the  lawn  was  deserted,  save  for  a  gardener  among  the 
shrubs.  He  rang  the  stable-bell,  and  as  he  waited  for  an 
answer  to  his  summons,  the  sense  of  his  remoteness  from 


470  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

these  surroundings  of  hers  deepened,  and  with  a  touch  of 
inevitable  humour  he  recalled  the  low-ceiled  bedroom  at 
Mr.  Jenney's  and  the  kitchen  in  Hanover  Street ;  the 
annual  cost  of  the  care  of  that  lawn  and  driveway  might 
well  have  maintained  one  of  these  households. 

He  told  the  stable-boy  to  wait.  It  is  to  be  remarked 
as  curious  that  the  name  of  the  owner  of  the  house  on 
Austen's  lips  brought  the  first  thought  of  him  to  Austen's 
mind.  He  was  going  to  see  and  speak  with  Mr.  Flint, — 
a  man  who  had  been  his  enemy  ever  since  the  day  he  had 
come  here  and  laid  down  his  pass  on  the  president's  desk; 
the  man  who  —  so  he  believed  until  three  days  ago — had 
stood  between  him  and  happiness.  Well,  it  did  not 
matter  now. 

Austen  followed  the  silent-moving  servant  through  the 
hall.  Those  were  the  stairs  which  knew  her  feet,  these 
the  rooms  — so  subtly  flower-scented  —  she  lived  in;  then 
came  the  narrow  passage  to  the  sterner  apartment  of  the 
master  himself.  Mr.  Flint  was  alone,  and  seated  upright 
behind  the  massive  oak  desk,  from  which  bulwark  the 
president  of  the  Northeastern  was  wont  to  meet  his  op 
ponents  and  his  enemies  ;  and  few  visitors  came  into  his 
presence,  here  or  elsewhere,  who  were  not  to  be  got  the 
better  of,  if  possible.  A  life-long  habit  had  accustomed 
Mr.  Flint  to  treat  all  men  as  adversaries  until  they  were 
proved  otherwise.  His  square,  close-cropped  head,  his 
large  features,  his  alert  eyes,  were  those  of  a  fighter. 

He  did  not  rise,  but  nodded.  Suddenly  Austen  was 
enveloped  in  a  flame  of  wrath  that  rose  without  warning 
and  blinded  him,  and  it  was  with  a  supreme  effort  to  con 
trol  himself  that  he  stopped  in  the  doorway.  He  was 
frightened,  for  he  had  felt  this  before,  and  he  knew  it  for 
the  anger  that  demands  physical  violence. 

"  Come  in,  Mr.  Vane,"  said  the  president. 

Austen  advanced  to  the  desk,  and  laid  the  boxes  before 
Mr.  Flint. 

"  Mr.  Vane  told  me  to  say  that  he  would  have  brought 
these  himself,  had  it  been  possible.  Here  is  the  list,  and  I 
shall  be  much  obliged  if  you  will  verify  it  before  I  go  back^" 


THE  VOICE   OF  AN  ERA  471 

"  Sit  down,"  said  Mr.  Flint. 

Austen  sat  down,  with  the  corner  of  the  desk  between 
them,  while  Mr.  Flint  opened  the  boxes  and  began  check 
ing  off  the  papers  on  the  list. 

"  How  is  your  father  this  afternoon  ?  "  he  asked,  with 
out  looking  up. 

"  As  well  as  can  be  expected,"  said  Austen. 

"  Of  course  nobody  knew  his  condition  but  himself," 
Mr.  Flint  continued ;  "  but  it  was  a  great  shock  to  me 
when  he  resigned  as  my  counsel  three  days  ago." 

Austen  laid  his  forearm  on  the  desk,  and  his  hand 
closed. 

"  He  resigned  three  days  ago  ?  "  he  exclaimed. 

Mr.  Flint  was  surprised,  but  concealed  it. 

"I  can  understand,  under  the  circumstances,  how  he- 
has  overlooked  telling  you.  His  resignation  takes  effect 
to-day." 

Austen  was  silent  a  moment,  while  he  strove  to  apply 
this  fact  to  his  father's  actions. 

"  He  waited  until  after  the  convention." 

"  Exactly,"  said  Mr.  Flint,  catching  the  implied  accusa 
tion  in  Austen's  tone;  "and  needless  to  say,  if  I  had  been 
able  to  prevent  his  going,  in  view  of  what  happened  on 
Monday  night,  I  should  have  done  so.  As  you  know,  after 
his  —  accident,  he  went  to  the  capital  without  informing 
any  one." 

"  As  a  matter  of  honour,"  said  Austen. 

Mr.  Flint  looked  up  from  the  papers,  and  regarded  him 
narrowly,  for  the  tone  in  which  this  was  spoken  did  not 
escape  the  president  of  the  Northeastern.  He  saw,  in 
fact,  that  at  the  outset  he  had  put  a  weapon  into  Austen's 
hands.  Hilary's  resignation  was  a  vindication  of  Austen's 
attitude,  an  acknowledgment  that  the  business  and  politi 
cal  practices  of  his  life  had  been  wrong. 

What  Austen  really  felt,  when  he  had  grasped  the 
significance  of  that  fact,  was  relief  —  gratitude.  A  wate 
of  renewed  affection  for  his  father  swept  over  him,  of 
affection  and  pity  and  admiration,  and  for  the  instant  he 
forgot  Mr.  Flint. 


472  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

"  As  a  matter  of  honour,"  Mr.  Flint  repeated.  "  Know 
ing  he  was  ill,  Mr.  Vane  insisted  upon  going  to  that  con 
vention,  even  at  the  risk  of  his  life.  It  is  a  fitting  close 
to  a  splendid  career,  and  one  that  will  not  soon  be  for 
gotten." 

Austen  merely  looked  at  Mr.  Flint,  who  may  have  found 
the  glance  a  trifle  disconcerting,  for  he  turned  to  the 
papers  again. 

"  I  repeat,"  he  went  on  presently,  "  that  this  illness  of 
Mr.  Vane's  is  not  only  a  great  loss  to  the  Northeastern  sys 
tem,  but  a  great  blow  to  me  personally.  I  have  been  as 
sociated  with  him  closely  for  more  than  a  quarter  of  a 
century,  and  I  have  never  seen  a  lawyer  of  greater  integ 
rity,  clear-headedness,  and  sanity  of  view.  He  saw  things 
as  they  were,  and  he  did  as  much  to  build  up  the  business 
interests  and  the  prosperity  of  this  State  as  any  man  I 
know  of.  He  was  true  to  his  word,  and  true  to  his  friends." 

Still  Austen  did  not  reply.  He  continued  to  look  at 
Mr.  Flint,  and  Mr.  Flint  continued  to  check  the  papers  — 
only  more  slowly.  He  had  nearly  finished  the  first  box. 

"  A  wave  of  political  insanity,  to  put  it  mildly,  seems  to 
be  sweeping  over  this  country,"  said  the  president  of  the 
Northeastern.  "  Men  who  would  paralyze  and  destroy  the 
initiative  of  private  enterprise,  men  who  themselves  are 
ambitious,  and  either  incapable  or  unsuccessful,  have  sprung 
up  ;  writers  who  have  no  conscience,  whose  one  idea  is  to 
make  money  out  of  a  passing  craze  against  honest  capital, 
have  aided  them.  Disappointed  and  dangerous  politicians 
who  merely  desire  office  and  power  have  lifted  their  voices 
in  the  hue  and  cry  to  fool  the  honest  voter.  I  am  glad  to  say 
I  believe  that  the  worst  of  this  madness  and  rascality  is 
over;  that  the  common  sense  of  the  people  of  this  country 
is  too  great  to  be  swept  away  by  the  methods  of  these  self- 
seekers  ;  that  the  ordinary  man  is  beginning  to  see  that 
his  bread  and  butter  depends  on  the  brain  of  the  officers 
who  are  trying  honestly  to  conduct  great  enterprises  for 
the  benefit  of  the  average  citizen. 

"  We  did  not  expect  to  escape  in  this  State,"  Mr.  Flint 
went  on,  raising  his  head  and  meeting  Austen's  look; 


THE  VOICE  OF   AN  ERA  473 

"the  disease  was  too  prevalent  and  too  catching  for  the 
weak-minded.  We  had  our  self-seekers  who  attempted  to 
bring  ruin  upon  an  institution  which  has  done  more  for 
our  population  than  any  other.  I  do  not  hesitate  to  speak 
of  the  Northeastern  Railroads  as  an  institution,  and  as  an 
institution  which  has  been  as  conscientiously  and  con 
servatively  conducted  as  any  in  the  country,  and  with  as 
scrupulous  a  regard  for  the  welfare  of  all.  Hilary  Vane,  as 
you  doubtless  know,  was  largely  responsible  for  this.  My 
attention,  as  president  of  all  the  roads,  has  been  divided. 
Hilary  Vane  guarded  the  interests  in  this  State,  and  no  man 
could  have  guarded  them  better.  He  well  deserves  the 
thanks  of  future  generations  for  the  uncompromising  fight 
he  made  against  such  men  and  such  methods.  It  has 
broken  him  down  at  a  time  of  life  when  he  has  earned 
repose,  but  he  has  the  satisfaction  of  knowing  that  he  has 
won  the  battle  for  conservative  American  principles,  and 
that  he  has  nominated  a  governor  worthy  of  the  traditions 
of  the  State." 

And  Mr.  Flint  started  checking  off  the  papers  again. 
Had  the  occasion  been  less  serious,  Austen  could  have 
smiled  at  Mr.  Flint's  ruse  —  so  characteristic  of  the  tactics 
of  the  president  of  the  Northeastern  —  of  putting  him 
into  a  position  where  criticism  of  the  Northeastern  and  its 
practices  would  be  criticism  of  his  own  father.  As  it  was, 
he  only  set  his  jaw  more  firmly,  an  expression  indicative 
of  contempt  for  such  tactics.  He  had  not  come  there  to 
be  lectured  out  of  the  "  Book  of  Arguments  "  on  the  divine 
right  of  railroads  to  govern,  but  to  see  that  certain  papers 
were  delivered  in  safety. 

Had  his  purpose  been  deliberately  to  enter  into  a  contest 
with  Mr.  Flint,  Austen  could  not  have  planned  the  early 
part  of  it  any  better  than  by  pursuing  this  policy  of  silence. 
To  a  man  of  Mr.  Flint's  temperament  and  training,  it 
was  impossib.le  to  have  such  an  opponent  within  reach 
without  attempting  to  hector  him  into  an  acknowledg 
ment  of  the  weakness  of  his  position.  Further  than  this, 
Austen  had  touched  him  too  often  on  the  quick  merely  to 
be  considered  in  the  light  of  a  young  man  who  held  oppo- 


474  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

site  and  unfortunate  views  —  although  it  was  Mr.  Flint's 
endeavour  to  put  him  in  this  light.  The  list  of  injuries 
was  too  fresh  in  Mr.  Flint's  mind  —  even  that  last  con 
versation  with  Victoria,  in  which  she  had  made  it  plain 
that  her  sympathies  were  with  Austen. 

But  with  an  opponent  who  would  not  be  led  into 
ambush,  who  had  the  strength  to  hold  his  fire  under  provo 
cation,  it  was  no  easy  matter  to  maintain  a  height  of 
conscious,  matter-of-fact  rectitude  and  implied  reproof. 
Austen's  silence,  Austen's  attitude,  declared  louder  than 
words  the  contempt  for  such  manoeuvres  of  a  man  who 
knows  he  is  in  the  right  —  and  knows  that  his  adversary 
knows  it.  It  was  this  silence  and  this  attitude  which 
proclaimed  itself  that  angered  Mr.  Flint,  yet  made  him 
warily  conceal  his  anger  and  change  his  attack. 

"  It  is  some  years  since  we  met,  Mr.  Vane,"  he  re 
marked  presently. 

Austen's  face  relaxed  into  something  of  a  smile. 

"  Four,  I  think,"  he  answered. 

"You  hadn't  long  been  back  from  that  Western  ex 
perience.  Well,  your  father  has  one  decided  consolation ; 
you  have  fulfilled  his  hope  that  you  would  settle  down 
here  and  practise  in  the  State.  And  I  hear  that  you  are 
fast  forging  to  the  front.  You  are  counsel  for  the  Gay- 
lord  Company,  I  believe." 

"  The  result  of  an  unfortunate  accident,"  said  Austen ; 
"Mr.  Hammer  died." 

"  And  on  the  occasion  when  you  did  me  the  honour  to 
call  on  me,"  said  Mr.  Flint,  "  if  I  remember  rightly,  you 
expressed  some  rather  radical  views  —  for  the  son  of 
Hilary  Vane." 

"  For  the  son  of  Hilary  Vane,"  Austen  agreed,  with  a 
smile. 

Mr.  Flint  ignored  the  implication  in  the  repetition. 

"  Thinking  as  much  as  I  do  of  Mr.  Vane,  I  confess  that 
your  views  at  that  time  rather  disturbed  me.  It  is  a 
matter  of  relief  to  learn  that  you  have  refused  to  lend 
yourself  to  the  schemes  of  men  like  our  neighbour,  Mr. 
Humphrey  Crewe,  of  Leith." 


THE  VOICE   OF   AN   ERA  475 

"Honesty  compels  me  to  admit,"  answered  Austen, 
"  that  I  did  not  refrain  on  Mr.  Crewe's  account." 

"  Although,"  said  Mr.  Flint,  drumming  on  the  table, 
"there  was  some  talk  that  you  were  to  be  brought  for 
ward  as  a  dark  horse  in  the  convention,  and  as  a  can 
didate  unfriendly  to  the  interests  of  the  Northeastern 
Railroads,  I  am  glad  you  did  not  consent  to  be  put  in  any 
such  position.  I  perceive  that  a  young  man  of  your 
ability  and  —  popularity,  a  Vane  of  Camden  Street,  must 
inevitably  become  a  force  in  this  State.  And  as  a  force, 
you  must  retain  the  conservatism  of  the  Vanes  —  the 
traditional  conservatism  of  the  State.  The  Northeastern 
Railroads  will  continue  to  be  a  very  large  factor  in  the 
life  of  the  people  after  you  and  I  are  gone,  Mr.  Vane. 
You  will  have  to  live,  as  it  were,  with  that  corporation, 
and  help  to  preserve  it.  We  shall  have  to  work  together, 
perhaps,  to  that  end  —  who  can  say  ?  I  repeat,  I  am  glad 
that  your  good  sense  led  you  to  refrain  from  coming 
as  a  candidate  before  that  Convention.  There  is  time 
enough  in  the  future,  and  you  could  not  have  been  nomi 
nated." 

"  On  the  contrary,"  answered  Austen,  quietly,  "  I  could 
have  been  nominated." 

Mr.  Flint  smiled  knowingly  —  but  with  an  effort. 
What  a  relief  it  would  have  been  to  him  to  charge  horse 
and  foot,  to  forget  that  he  was  a  railroad  president  deal 
ing  with  a  potential  power. 

"  Do  you  honestly  believe  that  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  I  am  not  accustomed  to  dissemble  my  beliefs,"  said 
Austen,  gravely.  "The  fact  that  my  father  had  faith 
enough  in  me  to  count  with  certainty  on  my  refusal  to  go 
before  the  convention  enabled  him  to  win  the  nomination 
for  the  candidate  of  your  railroads." 

Mr.  Flint  continued  to  smile,  but  into  his  eyes  had 
crept  a  gleam  of  anger. 

"  It  is  easy  to  say  such  things  —  after  the  convention," 
he  remarked. 

"  And  it  would  have  been  impossible  to  say  them  be 
fore,"  Austen  responded  instantly,  with  a  light  in  his 


476  MR.   CREWE'S  CAREER 

own  eyes.  "My  nomination  was  the  only  disturbing 
factor  in  the  situation  for  you  and  the  politicians  who  had 
your  interests  in  hand,  and  it  was  as  inevitable  as  night 
and  day  that  the  forces  of  the  candidates  who  represented 
the  two  wings  of  the  machine  of  the  Northeastern  Rail 
roads  should  have  united  against  Mr.  Crewe.  I  want  to 
say  to  you  frankly  chat  if  my  father  had  not  been  the 
counsel  for  your  corporation,  and  responsible  for  its  polit 
ical  success,  or  if  he  could  have  resigned  with  honour 
before  the  convention,  I  should  not  have  refused  to  let 
my  name  go  in.  After  all,"  he  added,  in  a  lower  tone, 
and  with  a  slight  gesture  characteristic  of  him  when  a 
subject  was  distasteful,  "  it  doesn't  matter  who  is  elected 
governor  this  autumn." 

44  What  ?  "  cried  Mr.  Flint,  surprised  out  of  his  attitude 
as  much  by  Austen's  manner  as  by  Austen's  words. 

"  It  doesn't  matter,"  said  Austen,  "  whether  the  North 
eastern  Railroads  have  succeeded  this  time  in  nominating 
and  electing  a  governor  to  whom  they  can  dictate,  and 
who  will  reappoint  railroad  commissioners  and  other  State 
officials  in  their  interests.  The  practices  by  which  you 
have  controlled  this  State,  Mr.  Flint,  and  elected  gov 
ernors  and  councillors  and  State  and  national  senators  are 
doomed.  However  necessary  these  practices  may  have 
been  from  your  point  of  view,  they  violated  every  principle 
of  free  government,  and  were  they  to  continue,  the  nation 
to  which  we  belong  would  inevitably  decay  and  become 
the  scorn  of  the  world.  Those  practices  depended  for 
their  success  on  one  condition,  —  which  in  itself  is  the 
most  serious  of  ills  in  a  republic,  —  the  ignorance  and  dis 
regard  of  the  voter.  You  have  but  to  read  the  signs  of 
the  times  to  see  clearly  that  the  day  of  such  conditions  is 
past,  to  see  that  the  citizens  of  this  State  and  this  country 
are  thinking  for  themselves,  as  they  should;  are  alive  to 
the  danger,  and  determined  to  avert  it.  You  may  succeed 
in  electing  one  more  governor  and  one  more  senate,  or 
two,  before  the  people  are  able  to  destroy  the  machinery 
you  have  built  up  and  repeal  the  laws  you  have  made 
to  sustain  it.  I  repeat,  it  doesn't  matter  in  the  long  run. 


THE  VOICE  OF  AN  EKA  477 

The  era  of  political  domination  by  a  corporation,  and 
mainly  for  the  benefit  of  a  corporation,  is  over." 

Mr.  Flint  had  been  drumming  on  the  desk,  his  face 
growing  a  darker  red  as  Austen  proceeded.  Never,  since 
he  had  become  president  of  the  Northeastern  Railroads, 
had  any  man  said  such  things  to  his  face.  And  the  fact 
that  Austen  Vane  had  seemingly  not  spoken  in  wrath, 
although  forcefully  enough  to  compel  him  to  listen,  had 
increased  Mr.  Flint's  anger.  Austen  apparently  cared 
very  little  for  him  or  his  opinions  in  comparison  with  his 
own  estimate  of  right  and  wrong. 

"  It  seems,"  said  Mr.  Flint,  "  that  you  have  grown  more 
radical  since  your  last  visit." 

"  If  it  be  radical  to  refuse  to  accept  a  pass  from  a  rail 
road  to  bind  my  liberty  of  action  as  an  attorney  and  a 
citizen,  then  I  am  radical,"  replied  Austen.  "If  it  be 
radical  to  maintain  that  the  elected  representatives  of  the 
people  should  not  receive  passes,  or  be  beholden  to  any 
man  or  any  corporation,  I  acknowledge  the  term.  If  it 
be  radical  to  declare  that  these  representatives  should  be 
elected  without  interference,  and  while  in  office  should 
do  exact  justice  to  the  body  of  citizens  on  the  one  hand 
and  the  corporations  on  the  other,  I  declare  myself  a  radi 
cal.  But  my  radicalism  goes  back  behind  the  establish 
ment  of  railroads,  Mr.  Flint,  back  to  the  foundation  of 
this  government,  to  the  idea  from  which  it  sprang." 

Mr.  Flint  smiled  again. 

"We  have  changed  materially  since  then,"  he  said. 
"  I  am  afraid  such  a  Utopian  state  of  affairs,  beautiful  as 
it  is,  will  not  work  in  the  twentieth  century.  It  is  a  com 
mercial  age,  and  the  interests  which  are  the  bulwark  of  the 
country's  strength  must  be  protected." 

"  Yes,"  said  Austen,  "  we  have  changed  materially. 
The  mistake  you  make,  and  men  like  you,  is  the  stress 
which  you  lay  on  that  word  material.  Are  there  no 
such  things  as  moral  interests,  Mr.  Flint?  And  are 
they  not  quite  as  important  in  government,  if  not  more 
important,  than  material  interests?  Surely,  we  cannot 
have  commercial  and  political  stability  without  com- 


478  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

mercial  and  political  honour!  If,  as  a  nation,  we  lose 
sight  of  the  ideals  which  have  carried  us  so  far,  which 
have  so  greatly  modified  the  conditions  of  other  peoples 
than  ourselves,  we  shall  perish  as  a  force  in  the  world. 
And  if  this  government  proves  a  failure,  how  long  do 
you  think  the  material  interests  of  which  you  are  so 
solicitous  will  endure  ?  Or  do  you  care  whether  they 
endure  beyond  your  lifetime?  Perhaps  not.  But  it  is 
a  matter  of  importance,  not  only  to  the  nation,  but  to  the 
world,  whether  or  not  the  moral  idea  of  the  United  States 
of  America  is  perpetuated,  I  assure  you." 

"  I  begin  to  fear,  Mr.  Vane,"  said  the  president  of  the 
Northeastern,  "that  you  have  missed  your  vocation.  Sup 
pose  I  were  to  grant  you,  for  the  sake  of  argument,  that 
the  Northeastern  Railroads,  being  the  largest  taxpayers  in 
this  State,  have  taken  an  interest  in  seeing  that  conserva 
tive  men  fill  responsible  offices.  Suppose  such  to  be  the 
case,  and  we  abruptly  cease — to  take  such  an  interest. 
What  then  ?  Are  we  not  at  the  mercy  of  any  and  all  un 
scrupulous  men  who  build  up  a  power  of  their  own,  and 
start  again  the  blackmail  of  the  old  days  ?  " 

"  You  have  put  the  case  mildly,"  said  Austen,  "  and 
ingeniously.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  Mr.  Flint,  you  know  as 
well  as  I  do  that  for  years  you  have  governed  this  State 
absolutely,  for  the  purpose  of  keeping  down  your  taxes, 
avoiding  unnecessary  improvements  for  safety  and  com 
fort,  and  paying  high  dividends  —  " 

"  Perhaps  you  realize  that  in  depicting  these  criminal 
operations  so  graphically,"  cried  Mr.  Flint,  interrupting, 
"  you  are  involving  the  reputation  of  one  of  the  best  citi 
zens  the  State  ever  had  —  your  own  father." 

Austen  Vane  leaned  forward  across  the  desk,  and  even 
Mr.  Flint  (if  the  truth  were  known)  recoiled  a  little 
before  the  anger  he  had  aroused.  It  shot  forth  from 
Austen's  eyes,  proclaimed  itself  in  the  squareness  of  the 
face,  and  vibrated  in  every  word  he  spoke. 

"  Mr.  Flint,"  he  said,  "  I  refrain  from  comment  upon 
your  methods  of  argument.  There  were  many  years  in 
which  my  father  believed  the  practices  which  he  followed 


THE  VOICE   OF   AN  ERA  479 

in  behalf  of  your  railroad  to  be  necessary —  and  hence 
justified.  And  I  have  given  you  the  credit  of  holding  the 
same  belief.  Public  opinion  would  not,  perhaps,  at  that 
time  have  protected  your  property  from  political  black 
mail.  I  merely  wished  you  to  know,  Mr.  Flint,  that  there 
is  no  use  in  attempting  to  deceive  me  in  regard  to  the  true 
colour  of  those  practices.  It  is  perhaps  useless  for  me  to 
add  that  in  my  opinion  you  understand  as  well  as  I  do 
the  real  reason  for  Mr.  Vane's  resignation  and  illness. 
Once  he  became  convinced  that  the  practices  were  wrong, 
he  could  no  longer  continue  them  without  violating  his  con 
science.  He  kept  his  word  to  you  —  at  the  risk  of  his  life, 
and,  as  his  son,  I  take  a  greater  pride  in  him  to-day  than 
I  ever  have  before." 

Austen  got  to  his  feet.  He  was  formidable  even 
to  Mr.  Flint,  who  had  met  many  formidable  and  angry 
men  in  his  time  —  although  not  of  this  type.  Perhaps 
—  who  can  say? — he  was  the  unconscious  embodiment 
in  the  mind  of  the  president  of  the  Northeastern  of 
the  new  forces  which  had  arisen  against  him,  —  forces 
which  he  knew  in  his  secret  soul  he  could  not  combat, 
because  they  were  the  irresistible  forces  of  things  not 
material.  All  his  life  he  had  met  and  successfully  con 
quered  forces  of  another  kind,  and  put  down  with  a  strong 
hand  merely  physical  encroachments. 

Mr.  Flint's  nature  was  not  an  introspective  one,  and  if 
he  had  tried,  he  could  not  have  accounted  for  his  feelings. 
He  was  angry  —  that  was  certain.  But  he  measured  the 
six  feet  and  more  of  Austen  Vane  with  his  eye,  and  in 
spite  of  himself  experienced  the  compelled  admiration  of 
one  fighting  man  for  another.  A  thought,  which  had 
made  itself  vaguely  felt  at  intervals  in  the  past  half  hour, 
shot  suddenly  and  poignantly  through  Mr.  Flint's  mind  : 
what  if  this  young  man,  who  dared  in  spite  of  every  in 
terest  to  oppose  him,  should  in  the  apparently  inevitable 
trend  of  things,  become  .  .  .  ? 

Mr.  Flint  rose  and  went  to  the  window,  where  he  stood 
silent  for  a  space,  looking  out,  played  upon  by  unwonted 
conflicting  thoughts  and  emotions.  At  length,  with  a 


480  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

characteristic  snap  of  the  fingers,  he  turned  abruptly. 
Austen  Vane  was  still  standing  beside  the  desk.  His 
face  was  still  square,  determined,  but  Mr.  Flint  noted 
curiously  that  the  anger  was  gone  from  his  eyes,  and  that 
another  —  although  equally  human  —  expression  had  taken 
its  place,  —  a  more  disturbing  expression,  to  Mr.  Flint. 

"  It  appears,  Mr.  Vane,"  he  said,  gathering  up  the 
papers  and  placing  them  in  the  boxes,  "  it  appears  that  we 
are  able  to  agree  upon  one  point,  at  least  —  Hilary  Vane." 

"Mr.  Flint,"  said  Austen,  "I  did  not  come  up  here 
with  any  thought  of  arguing  with  you,  of  intruding  any 
ideas  I  may  hold,  but  you  have  yourself  asked  me  one 
question  which  I  feel  bound  to  answer  to  the  best  of  my 
ability  before  I  go.  You  have  asked  me  what,  in  my 
opinion,  would  happen  if  you  ceased  —  as  you  express 
it  —  to  take  an  interest  in  the  political  affairs  of  this 
State. 

44 1  believe,  as  firmly  as  I  stand  here,  that  the  public 
opinion  which  exists  to-day  would  protect  your  property, 
and  I  base  that  belief  on  the  good  sense  of  the  average 
American  voter.  The  public  would  protect  you  not  only 
in  its  own  interests,  but  from  an  inherent  sense  of  fair 
play.  On  the  other  hand,  if  you  persist  in  a  course  of 
political  manipulation  which  is  not  only  obsolete  but 
wrong,  you  will  magnify  the  just  charges  against  you, 
and  the  just  wrath;  you  will  put  ammunition  into  the 
hands  of  the  agitators  you  rightly  condemn.  The  stock 
holders  of  your  corporation,  perhaps,  are  bound  to  suffer 
some  from  the  fact  that  you  have  taken  its  life-blood  to 
pay  dividends,  and  the  public  will  demand  that  it  be  built 
up  into  a  normal  and  healthy  condition.  On  the  other 
hand,  it  could  not  have  gone  on  as  it  was.  But  the  cor 
poration  will  suffer  much  more  if  a  delayed  justice  is 
turned  into  vengeance. 

44  You  ask  me  what  I  could  do.  I  should  recognize, 
frankly,  the  new  conditions,  and  declare  as  frankly  what 
the  old  ones  were,  and  why  such  methods  of  defence  as 
you  adopted  were  necessary  and  justified.  I  should 
announce,  openly,  that  from  this  day  onward  the  North- 


THE  VOICE  OF  AN  ERA  481 

eastern  Railroads  depended  for  fair  play  on  an  enlightened 
public  —  and  I  think  your  trust  would  be  well  founded, 
and  your  course  vindicated.  I  should  declare,  from  this 
day  onward,  that  the  issue  of  political  passes,  newspaper 
passes,  and  all  other  subterfuges  would  be  stopped,  and 
that  all  political  hirelings  would  be  dismissed.  I  should 
appeal  to  the  people  of  this  State  to  raise  up  political 
leaders  who  would  say  to  the  corporations,  '  We  will 
protect  you  from  injustice  if  you  will  come  before  the 
elected  representatives  of  the  people,  openly,  and  say 
what  you  want  arid  why  you  want  it.'  By  such  a  course 
you  would  have,  in  a  day,  the  affection  of  the  people 
instead  of  their  distrust.  They  would  rally  to  your 
defence.  And,  more  than  that,  you  would  have  done  a 
service  for  American  government  the  value  of  which  can 
not  well  be  estimated." 

Mr.  Flint  rang  the  bell  on  his  desk,  and  his  secretary 
appeared. 

"  Put  these  in  my  private  safe,  Mr.  Freeman,"  he  said. 

Mr.  Freeman  took  the  boxes,  glanced  curiously  at 
Austen,  and  went  out.  It  was  the  same  secretary, 
Austen  recalled,  who  had  congratulated  him  four  years 
before.  Then  Mr.  Flint  laid  his  hand  deliberately  on  the 
desk,  and  smiled  slightly  as  he  turned  to  Austen. 

"  If  you  had  run  a  railroad  as  long  as  I  have,  Mr.  Vane," 
he  said,  "  I  do  you  the  credit  of  thinking  that  you  would 
have  intelligence  enough  to  grasp  other  factors  which 
your  present  opportunities  for  observation  have  not  per 
mitted  you  to  perceive.  Nevertheless,  I  am  much  obliged 
to  you  for  your  opinion,  and  I  value  the  —  frankness  in 
which  it  was  given.  And  I  shall  hope  to  hear  good  news 
of  your  father.  Remember  me  to  him,  and  tell  him  how 
deeply  I  feel  his  affliction.  I  shall  call  again  in  a  day 
or  two." 

Austen  took  up  his  hat. 

"  Good  day,  Mr.  Flint,"  he  said;  "  I  will  tell  him." 

By  the  time  he  had  reached  the  door,  Mr.  Flint  had 
gone  back  to  the  window  once  more,  and  appeared  to 
have  forgotten  his  presence. 

2i 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

THE   VALE   OF  THE  BLUB 

AUSTEN  himself  could  not  well  have  defined  his  mental 
state  as  he  made  his  way  through  the  big  rooms  towards 
the  door,  but  he  was  aware  of  one  main  desire  —  to  escape 
from  Fairview.  With  the  odours  of  the  flowers  in  the 
tall  silver  vases  on  the  piano  —  her  piano  !  —  the  spirit  of 
desire  which  had  so  long  possessed  him,  waking  and  sleep 
ing,  returned,  —  returned  to  torture  him  now  with  greater 
skill  amidst  these  her  possessions ;  her  volume  of  Chopin 
on  the  rack,  bound  in  red  leather  and  stamped  with  her 
initials,  which  compelled  his  glance  as  he  passed,  and 
brought  vivid  to  his  memory  the  night  he  had  stood  in 
the  snow  and  heard  her  playing.  So,  he  told  himself, 
it  must  always  be,  for  him  to  stand  in  the  snow  — 
listening. 

He  reached  the  hall,  with  a  vast  relief  perceived  that  it 
was  empty,  and  opened  the  door  and  went  out.  Strange 
that  he  should  note,  first  of  all,  as  he  paused  a  moment  at 
the  top  of  the  steps,  that  the  very  day  had  changed!  The 
wind  had  fallen;  the  sun,  well  on  his  course  towards  the 
rim  of  western  hills,  poured  the  golden  light  of  autumn 
over  field  and  forest,  while  Sawanec  was  already  in  the 
blue  shadow;  the  expectant  stillness  of  autumn  reigned, 
and  all  unconsciously  Austen's  blood  was  quickened  — 
though  a  quickening  of  pain. 

The  surprise  of  the  instant  over,  he  noticed  that  his 
horse  was  gone,  —  had  evidently  been  taken  to  the 
stables.  And  rather  than  ring  the  bell  and  wait  in  the 
mood  in  which  he  found  himself,  he  took  the  path  through 
the  shrubbery  from  which  he  had  seen  the  groom  emerge. 

482 


THE  VALE  OF  THE  BLUE        483 

It  turned  beyond  the  corner  of   the  house,  descended  a 
flight  of  stone  steps,  and  turned  again. 

******* 

They  stood  gazing  each  at  the  other  for  a  space  of  time 
not  to  be  computed  before  either  spoke,  and  the  sense  of 
unreality  which  comes  with  a  sudden  fulfilment  of  intense 
desire  —  or  dread  —  was  upon  Austen.  Could  this  indeed 
be  her  figure,  and  this  her  face  on  which  he  watched  the 
colour  rise  (so  he  remembered  afterwards)  like  the  slow 
flood  of  day  ?  Were  there  so  many  Victorias,  that  a  new 
one — -and  a  strange  one  —  should  confront  him  at  every 
meeting  ?  Arid,  even  while  he  looked,  this  Victoria,  too, 
—  one  who  had  been  near  him  and  departed,  —  was  sur 
veying  him  now  from  an  unapproachable  height  of  self-pos 
session  and  calm.  She  held  out  her  hand,  and  he  took  it, 
scarce  knowing  that  it  was  hers. 

"How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Vane?"  she  said;  "I  did  not 
expect  to  meet  you  here." 

"  I  was  searching  for  the  stable,  to  get  my  horse,"  he 
answered  lamely. 

"And  your  father?"  she  asked  quickly;  "I  hope  he  is 
not  —  worse." 

It  was  thus  she  supplied  him,  quite  naturally,  with  an 
excuse  for  being  at  Fair  view.  And  yet  her  solicitude  for 
Hilary  was  wholly  unaffected. 

"Dr.  Harmon,  who  came  from  New  York,  has  been 
more  encouraging  than  I  had  dared  to  hope,"  said  Austen. 
"And,  by  the  way,  Mr.  Vane  believes  that  you  had  a  share 
in  the  fruit  and  flowers  which  Mr.  Flint  so  kindly  brought. 
If  —  he  had  known  that  I  were  to  see  you,  I  am  sure  he 
would  have  wished  me  to  thank  you." 

Victoria  turned,  and  tore  a  leaf  from  the  spinea. 

"I  will  show  you  where  the  stables  are,"  she  said;  "the 
path  divides  a  little  farther  on  —  and  you  might  find 
yourself  in  the  kitchen." 

Austen  smiled,  and  as  she  went  on  slowly,  he  followed 
her,  the  path  not  being  wide  enough  for  them  to  walk 
abreast,  his  eyes  caressing  the  stray  hairs  that  clustered 


484  MR.   CREWE'S  CAREER 

about  her  neck  and  caught  the  light.  It  seemed  so  real, 
and  yet  so  unrealizable,  that  he  should  be  here  with  her. 

"  I  am  afraid,"  he  said,  "  that  I  did  not  express  my 
gratitude  as  I  should  have  done  the  evening  you  were 
good  enough  to  come  up  to  Jabe  Jenney's." 

He  saw  her  colour  rise  again,  but  she  did  not  pause. 

"  Please  don't  say  anything  about  it,  Mr.  Vane.  Of 
course  I  understand  how  you  felt,"  she  cried. 

"  Neither  my  father  nor  myself  will  forget  that  service," 
said  Austen. 

"  It  was  nothing,"  answered  Victoria,  in  a  low  voice. 
"  Or,  rather,  it  was  something  I  shall  always  be  glad  that  I 
did  not  miss.  I  have  seen  Mr.  Vane  all  my  life,  but  I  never 
—  never  really  knew  him  until  that  day.  I  have  come 
to  the  conclusion,"  she  added,  in  a  lighter  tone,  "  that  the 
young  are  not  always  the  best  judges  of  the  old.  There," 
she  added,  "  is  the  path  that  goes  to  the  kitchen,  which 
you  probably  would  have  taken." 

He  laughed.  Past  and  future  were  blotted  out,  and  he 
lived  only  in  the  present.  He  could  think  of  nothing  but 
that  she  was  here  beside  him.  Afterwards,  cataclysms 
might  come  and  welcome. 

"  Isn't  there  another  place,"  he  asked,  "  where  I  might 
lose  my  way  ?  " 

She  turned  and  gave  him  one  of  the  swift,  searching 
looks  he  recalled  so  well:  a  look  the  meaning  of  which 
he  could  not  declare,  save  that  she  seemed  vainly  striving 
to  fathom  something  in  him  —  as  though  he  were  not 
fathomable  !  He  thought  she  smiled  a  little  as  she  took 
the  left-hand  path. 

"  You  will  remember  me  to  your  father  ?  "  she  said.  "  I 
hope  he  is  not  suffering." 

"He  is  not  suffering,"  Austen  replied.  "Perhaps  —  if 
it  were  not  too  much  to  ask  —  perhaps  you  might  come  to 
see  him,  sometime  ?  I  can  think  of  nothing  that  would 
give  him  greater  pleasure." 

"  I  will  come  —  sometime,"  she  answered.  "  I  am  going 
away  to-morrow,  but  —  " 

"  Away  ?  "  he  repeated,  in  dismay.     Now  that  he  was 


THE  VALE  OF  THE  BLUE        485 

beside  her,  all  unconsciously  the  dominating  male  spirit 
which  was  so  strong  in  him,  and  which  moves  not  woman 
alone,  but  the  world,  was  asserting  itself.  For  the  mo 
ment  he  was  the  only  man,  and  she  the  only  woman,  in 
the  universe. 

"  I  am  going  on  a  promised  visit  to  a  friend  of  mine." 

"  For  how  long  ?  "  he  demanded. 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Victoria,  calmly;  "  probably  until 
she  gets  tired  of  me.  And  there,"  she  added,  "are  the 
stables,  where  no  doubt  you  will  find  your  faithful  Pepper." 

They  had  come  out  upon  an  elevation  above  the  hard  ser 
vice  drive,  and  across  it,  below  them,  was  the  coach  house 
with  its  clock-tower  and  weather-vane,  and  its  two  wings, 
enclosing  a  paved  court  where  a  whistling  stable-boy  was 
washing  a  carriage.  Austen  regarded  this  scene  an  in 
stant,  and  glanced  back  at  her  profile.  It  was  expression 
less. 

"  Might  I  not  linger  —  a  few  minutes  ?  "  he  asked. 

Her  lips  parted  slightly  in  a  smile,  and  she  turned  her 
head.  How  wonderfully,  he  thought,  it  was  poised  upon 
her  shoulders. 

"  I  haven't  been  very  hospitable,  have  I  ?  "  she  said. 
"  But  then,  you  seemed  in  such  a  hurry  to  go,  didn't  you  ? 
You  were  walking  so  fast  when  I  met  you  that  you  quite 
frightened  me." 

"Was  I  ?  "  asked  Austen,  in  surprise. 

She  laughed. 

"  You  looked  as  if  you  were  ready  to  charge  somebody. 
But  this  isn't  a  very  nice  place  —  to  linger,  and  if  you 
really  will  stay  awhile,"  said  Victoria,  "we  might  walk 
over  to  the  dairy,  where  that  model  protege  of  yours, 
Eben  Fitch,  whom  you  once  threatened  with  corporal 
chastisement  if  he  fell  from  grace,  is  engaged.  I  know  he 
will  be  glad  to  see  you." 

Austen  laughed  as  he  caught  up  with  her.  She  was 
already  halfway  across  the  road. 

"  Do  you  always  beat  people  if  they  do  wrong  ?  "  she 
asked. 

"  It  was  Eben  who  requested  it,  if  I  remember  rightly," 


486  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

he  said.  "  Fortunately,  the  trial  has  not  yet  arrived. 
Your  methods,"  he  added,  "seem  to  be  more  successful 
with  Eben." 

They  went  down  the  grassy  slope  with  its  groups  of  half- 
grown  trees ;  through  an  orchard  shot  with  slanting,  yellow 
sunlight, —  the  golden  fruit,  harvested  by  the  morning 
winds,  littering  the  ground;  and  then  by  a  gate  into  a  dim 
pled,  emerald  pasture  slope  where  the  Guernseys  were  feed 
ing  along  a  water  run.  They  spoke  of  trivial  things  that 
found  no  place  in  Austen's  memory,  and  at  times,  upon 
one  pretext  or  another,  he  fell  behind  a  little  that  he 
might  feast  his  eyes  upon  her. 

Eben  was  not  at  the  dairy,  and  Austen  betraying  no 
undue  curiosity  as  to  his  whereabouts,  they  walked  on  : 
up  the  slopes,  and  still  upward  towards  the  crest  of  the 
range  of  hills  that  marked  the  course  of  the  Blue.  He 
did  not  allow  his  mind  to  dwell  upon  this  new  footing 
they  were  on,  but  clung  to  it.  Before,  in  those  delicious 
moments  with  her,  seemingly  pilfered  from  the  angry  gods, 
the  sense  of  intimacy  had  been  deep;  deep,  because  robbing 
the  gods  together,  they  had  shared  the  feeling  of  guilt, 
had  known  that  retribution  would  come.  And  now  the 
gods  had  locked  their  treasure-chest,  although  themselves 
powerless  to  redeem  from  him  the  memory  of  what  he  had 
gained.  Nor  could  they,  apparently,  deprive  him  of  the 
vision  of  her  in  the  fields  and  woods  beside  him,  though 
transformed  by  their  magic  into  a  new  Victoria,  keeping 
him  lightly  and  easily  at  a  distance. 

Scattering  the  sheep  that  flecked  the  velvet  turf  of  the 
uplands,  they  stood  at  length  on  the  granite  crown  of  the 
crest  itself.  Far  below  them  wound  the  Blue  into  its  vale 
of  sapphire  shadows,  with  its  hillsides  of  the  mystic  fabric 
of  the  backgrounds  of  the  masters  of  the  Renaissance. 
For  a  while  they  stood  in  silence  under  the  spell  of  the 
scene's  enchantment,  and  then  Victoria  seated  herself  on 
the  rock,  and  he  dropped  to  a  place  at  her  side. 

"  I  thought  you  would  like  the  view,"  she  said ;  "  but 
perhaps  you  have  been  here,  perhaps  I  am  taking  you  to 
one  of  your  own  possessions." 


THE   VALE   OF  THE   BLUE  487 

He  had  flung  his  hat  upon  the  rock,  and  she  glanced  at 
his  serious,  sunburned  face.  His  eyes  were  still  fixed, 
contemplatively,  on  the  Vale  of  the  Blue,  but  he  turned  to 
her  with  a  smile. 

"  It  has  become  yours  by  right  of  conquest,"  he  answered. 

She  did  not  reply  to  that.  The  immobility  of  her  face, 
save  for  the  one  look  she  had  flashed  upon  him,  surprised 
and  puzzled  him  more  and  more  —  the  world-old,  indefin 
able,  eternal  feminine  quality  of  the  Sphinx. 

"  So  you  refused  to  be  governor  ?  "  she  said  presently, 
—  surprising  him  again. 

"  It  scarcely  came  to  that,"  he  replied. 

"  What  did  it  come  to  ?  "  she  demanded. 

He  hesitated. 

"  I  had  to  go  clown  to  the  capital,  on  my  father's  account, 
but  I  did  not  go  to  the  convention.  I  stayed,"  he  said 
slowly,  "  at  the  little  cottage  across  from  the  Duncan 
house  where  —  you  were  last  winter."  He  paused,  but 
she  gave  no  sign.  "  Tom  Gaylord  came  up  there  late  in 
the  afternoon,  and  wanted  rne  to  be  a  candidate." 

"  And  you  refused  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  But  you  could  have  been  nominated!  " 

"  Yes,"  he  admitted ;  "  it  is  probable.  The  conditions 
were  chaotic." 

"  Are  you  sure  you  have  done  right  ?  "  she  asked.  "  It 
has  always  seemed  to  me  from  what  I  know  and  have 
heard  of  you  that  you  were  made  for  positions  of  trust. 
You  would  have  been  a  better  governor  than  the  man  they 
have  nominated." 

His  expression  became  set. 

"  I  am  sure  I  have  done  right,"  he  answered  deliberately. 
"  It  doesn't  make  any  difference  who  is  governor  this  time." 

"  Doesn't  make  any  difference!  "  she  exclaimed. 

"No,"  he  said.  "Things  have  changed — the  people 
have  changed.  The  old  method  of  politics,  which  was 
wrong,  although  it  had  some  justification  in  conditions, 
has  gone  out.  A  new  and  more  desirable  state  of  affairs 
has  come.  I  arn  at  liberty  to  say  this  much  to  you  now," 


488  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

he  added,  fixing  his  glance  upon  her,  "  because  my  father 
has  resigned  as  counsel  for  the  Northeastern,  and  I  have 
just  had  a  talk  with  —  Mr.  Flint." 

"  You  have  seen  my  father  ?  "  she  asked,  in  a  low  voice, 
and  her  face  was  averted. 

"  Yes,"  he  answered. 

"You  —  did  not  agree,"  she  said  quickly. 

His  blood  beat  higher  at  the  question  and  the  manner 
of  her  asking  it,  but  he  felt  that  he  must  answer  it 
honestly,  unequivocally,  whatever  the  cost. 

"  No,  we  did  not  agree.  It  is  only  fair  to  tell  you 
that  we  differed  —  vitally.  On  the  other  hand,  it  is  just 
that  you  should  know  that  we  did  not  part  in  anger,  but, 
I  think,  with  a  mutual  respect." 

She  drew  breath. 

"  I  knew,"  she  said,  "  I  knew  if  he  could  but  talk  to 
you  he  would  understand  that  you  were  sincere  —  and 
you  have  proved  it.  I  am  glad  —  I  am  glad  that  you  saw 
him." 

The  quality  of  the  sunlight  changed,  the  very  hills 
leaped,  and  the  river  sparkled.  Could  she  care?  Why 
did  she  wish  her  father  to  know  that  he  was  sincere  ? 

"  You  are  glad  that  I  saw  him  !  "  he  repeated. 

But  she  met  his  glance  steadily. 

"My  father  has  so  little  faith  in  human  nature,"  she 
answered.  "  He  has  a  faculty  of  doubting  the  honesty  of 
his  opponents  —  I  suppose  because  so  many  of  them  have 
been  dishonest.  And  —  I  believe  in  my  friends,"  she 
added,  smiling.  "  Isn't  it  natural  that  I  should  wish  to 
have  my  judgment  vindicated  ?  " 

He  got  to  his  feet  and  walked  slowly  to  the  far  edge  of 
the  rock,  where  he  stood  for  a  while,  seemingly  gazing  off 
across  the  spaces  to  Sawanec.  It  was  like  him,  thus  to 
question  the  immutable.  Victoria  sat  motionless,  but  her 
eyes  followed  irresistibly  the  lines  of  power  in  the  tall 
figure  against  the  sky  —  the  breadth  of  shoulder  and 
slimness  of  hip  and  length  of  limb  typical  of  the  men  who 
had  conquered  and  held  this  land  for  their  descendants. 
Suddenly,  with  a  characteristic  movement  of  determina- 


THE  VALE  OF  THE  BLUE        489 

tion,  he  swung  about  and  came  towards  her,  and  at  the 
same  instant  she  rose. 

"  Don't  you  think  we  should  be  going  back?  "  she  said. 

But  he  seemed  not  to  hear  her. 

"  May  I  ask  you  something  ?  "  he  said. 

"  That  depends,"  she  answered. 

"  Are  you  going  to  marry  Mr.  Rangely  ?  " 

"  No,"  she  said,  and  turned  away.  "  Why  did  you 
think  that  ?  " 

He  quivered. 

"  Victoria  !  " 

She  looked  up  at  him,  swiftly,  half  revealed,  her  eyes 
like  stars  surprised  by  the  flush  of  dawn  in  her  cheeks. 
Hope  quickened  at  the  vision  of  hope,  the  seats  of  judg 
ment  themselves  were  filled  with  radiance,  and  rumour 
cowered  and  fled  like  the  spirit  of  night.  He  could  only 
gaze,  enraptured. 

"  Yes  ?  "  she  answered. 

His  voice  was  firm  but  low,  yet  vibrant  with  sincerity, 
with  the  vast  store  of  feeling,  of  compelling  magnetism 
that  was  in  the  man  and  moved  in  spite  of  themselves 
those  who  knew  him.  His  words  Victoria  remembered 
afterwards  —  all  of  them  ;  but  it  was  to  the  call  of  the 
voice  she  responded.  His  was  the  fibre  which  grows 
stronger  in  times  of  crisis.  Sure  of  himself,  proud  of  the 
love  which  he  declared,  he  spoke  as  a  man  who  has  earned 
that  for  which  he  prays,  —  simply  and  with  dignity. 

"  I  love  you,"  he  said ;  "  I  have  known  it  since  I  have 
known  you,  but  you  must  see  why  I  could  not  tell  you  so. 
It  was  very  hard,  for  there  were  times  when  I  led  myself 
to  believe  that  you  might  come  to  love  me.  There  were 
times  when  I  should  have  gone  away  if  I  hadn't  made  a 
promise  to  stay  in  Ripton.  I  ask  you  to  marry  me,  be 
cause  I  know  that  I  shall  love  you  as  long  as  I  live, 
I  can  give  you  this,  at  least,  and  I  can  promise  to  protect 
and  cherish  you.  I  cannot  give  you  that  to  which  you 
have  been  accustomed  all  your  life,  that  which  you  have 
here  at  Fairview,  but  I  shouldn't  say  this  to  you  if  .1 
believed  that  you  cared  for  them  above  —  other  things." 


490  MR.   CREWE'S  CAREER 

"  Oh,  Austen  !  "  she  cried,  "  I  do  not  —  I  do  not  ! 
They  would  be  hateful  to  me  —  without  you.  I  would 
rather  live  with  you — at  Jabe  Jenney's,"  and  her  voice 
caught  in  an  exquisite  note  between  laughter  and  tears. 
"  I  love  you,  do  you  understand,  you!  Oh,  how  could 
you  ever  have  doubted  it  ?  How  could  you  ?  What  you 
believe,  I  believe.  And,  Austen,  I  have  been  so  unhappy 
for  three  days." 

He  never  knew  whether,  as  the  most  precious  of  graces 
ever  conferred  upon  man,  with  a  womanly  gesture  she 
had  raised  her  arms  and  laid  her  hands  upon  his  shoulders 
before  he  drew  her  to  him  and  kissed  her  face,  that  vied 
in  colour  with  the  coming  glow  in  the  western  sky. 
Above  the  prying  eyes  of  men,  above  the  world  itself,  he 
held  her,  striving  to  realize  some  little  of  the  vast  joy  of 
this  possession,  and  failing.  And  at  last  she  drew  away 
from  him,  gently,  that  she  might  look  searchingly  into 
his  face  again,  and  shook  her  head  slowly. 

"  And  you  were  going  away,"  she  said,  "  without  a 
word  !  I  thought  —  you  didn't  care.  How  could  I  have 
known  that  you  were  just —  stupid  ?  " 

His  eyes  lighted  with  humour  and  tenderness. 

"  How  long  have  you  cared,  Victoria  ?  "  he  asked. 

She  became  thoughtful. 

"  Always,  I  think,"  she  answered ;  "  only  I  didn't  know 
it.  I  think  I  loved  you  even  before  I  saw  you." 

"  Before  you  saw  me  !  " 

"I  think  it  began,"  said  Victoria,  "when  I  learned  that 
you  had  shot  Mr.  Blodgett  —  only  I  hope  you  will  never 
do  such  a  thing  again.  And  you  will  please  try  to  re 
member,"  she  added,  after  a  moment,  "  that  I  am  neither 
Eben  Fitch  nor  your  friend,  Tom  Gaylord." 


Sunset  found  them  seated  on  the  rock,  with  the  waters 
of  the  river  turned  to  wine  at  the  miracle  in  the  sky  — 
their  miracle.  At  times  their  eyes  wandered  to  the 
mountain,  which  seemed  to  regard  them  —  from  a  discreet 
distance  — with  a  kindly  and  protecting  majesty. 


THE  VALE  OF  THE  BLUE        491 

"And  you  promised,"  said  Victoria,  "to  take  me  up 
there.  When  will  you  do  it  ?  " 

"  I  thought  you  were  going  away,"  he  replied. 

"  Unforeseen  circumstances,"  she  answered,  "  have  com 
pelled  me  to  change  my  plans." 

"  Then  we  will  go  to-morrow,"  he  said. 

"  To  the  Delectable  Land,"  said  Victoria,  dreamily ; 
"your  land,  where  we  shall  be  —  benevolent  despots. 
Austen  ?  " 

"Yes  ?  "  He  had  not  ceased  to  thrill  at  the  sound  of  his 
name  upon  her  lips. 

"  Do  you  think,"  she  asked,  glancing  at  him,  "  do  you 
think  you  have  money  enough  to  go  abroad  —  just  for  a 
little  while  ?  " 

He  laughed  joyously. 

"  I  don't  know,"  he  said,  "  but  I  shall  make  it  a  point 
to  examine  my  bank-account  to-night.  I  haven't  done  so 
—  for  some  time." 

"  We  will  go  to  Venice,  and  drift  about  in  a  gondola  on 
one  of  those  gray  days  when  the  haze  comes  in  from  the 
Adriatic  and  touches  the  city  with  the  magic  of  the  past. 
Sometimes  I  like  the  gray  days  best  —  when  I  am  happy. 
And  then,"  she  added,  regarding  him  critically,  "  although 
you  are  very  near  perfection,  there  are  some  things  you 
ought  to  see  and  learn  to  make  your  education  complete. 
I  will  take  you  to  all  the  queer  places  I  love.  When 
you  are  ambassador  to  France,  you  know,  it  would  be 
humiliating  to  have  to  have  an  interpreter,  wouldn't  it?" 

"  What's  the  use  of  both  of  us  knowing  the  language?" 
he  demanded. 

"  I'm  afraid  we  shall  be  —  too  happy,"  she  sighed, 
presently. 

"  Too  happy  !  "  he  repeated. 

"  I  sometimes  wonder,"  she  said,  "  whether  happiness 
and  achievement  go  together.  And  yet  —  I  feel  sure  that 
you  will  achieve." 

"  To  please  you,  Victoria,"  he  answered,  "  I  think  I 
should  almost  be  willing  to  try." 


CHAPTER  XXX 

p.s. 

By  request  of  one  who  has  read  thus  far,  and  is  still 
curious. 

YES,  and  another  who,  in  spite  of  himself,  has  fallen  in 
love  with  Victoria  and  would  like  to  linger  a  while  longer, 
even  though  it  were  with  the  paltry  excuse  of  discussing 
that  world-old  question  of  hers  —  Can  sublime  happiness 
and  achievement  go  together  ?  Novels  on  the  problem  of 
sex  nowadays  often  begin  with  marriages,  but  rarely  dis 
cuss  the  happy  ones ;  and  many  a  woman  is  forced  to  sit 
wistfully  at  home  while  her  companion  soars. 

"  Yet  may  I  look  with  heart  unshook 
On  blow  brought  home  or  missed — 

Yet  may  I  hear  with  equal  ear 
The  clarions  down  the  List ; 

Yet  set  my  lance  above  mischance 
And  ride  the  barriere  — 

Oh,  hit  or  miss,  how  little  'tis, 
My  Lady  is  not  there  !  " 

A  verse,  in  this  connection,  which  may  be  a  perversion 
of  Mr.  Kipling's  meaning,  but  not  so  far  from  it,  after  all. 
And  yet,  would  the  eagle  attempt  the  great  flights  if  con 
tentment  were  on  the  plain  ?  Find  the  mainspring  of 
achievement,  and  you  hold  in  your  hand  the  secret  of  the 
world's  mechanism.  Some  aver  that  it  is  woman. 

Do  the  gods  ever  confer  the  rarest  of  gifts  upon  him  to 
whom  they  have  given  pinions?  Do  they  mate  him,  ever, 
with  another  who  soars  as  high  as  he,  who  circles  higher 
that  he  may  circle  higher  still?  Who  can  answer  ?  Must 

492 


P.S.  493 

those  who  soar  be  condemned  to  eternal  loneliness,  and 
was  it  a  longing  they  did  not  comprehend  which  bade 
them  stretch  their  wings  toward  the  sun?  Who  can  say? 

Alas,  we  cannot  write  of  the  future  of  Austen  and 
Victoria  Vane  !  We  can  only  surmise,  and  hope,  and  pray, 
— yes,  and  believe.  Romance  walks  with  parted  lips  and 
head  raised  to  the  sky ;  and  let  us  follow  her,  because 
thereby  our  eyes  are  raised  with  hers.  We  must  believe, 
or  perish. 

Postscripts  are  not  fashionable.     The  satiated  theatre 
goer  leaves  before  the  end  of  the  play,  and  has  worked 
out  the  problem  for  himself  long  before  the  end  of  the  last 
act.     Sentiment  is  not  supposed  to  exist  in  the  orchestra 
seats.     But  above  (in  many  senses)  is  the  gallery,  from 
whence  an  excited  voice  cries  out  when  the  sleeper  returns 
to  life,  "  It's  Rip  Van  Winkle  ! "     The  gallery,  where  are 
the  human  passions  which  make  this  world   our  world; 
the  gallery,  played  upon  by-anger,  vengeance,  derision, 
triumph,  hate,  and  love ;  the  gallery,  which  lingers  and  -7 
applauds  long  after  the  fifth  curtain,  and  then  goes  reluc-  \ 
tantly  home — to  dream.     And  he  who  scorns  the  gallery/ 
is  no  artist,  for  there  lives  the  soul  of  art.     We  raise  our  j 
eyes  to  it,  and  to  it  we  dedicate  this  our  play ;  and  for  it  , 
we  lift  the  curtain  once  more  after  those  in  the  orchestra  ( 
have  departed. 

It  is  obviously  impossible,  in  a  few  words,  to  depict 
the  excitement  in  Ripton,  in  Leith,  in  the  State  at  large, 
when  it  became  known  that  the  daughter  of  Mr.  Flint 
was  to  marry  Austen  Vane,  —  a  fitting  if  unexpected 
climax  to  a  drama.  How  would  Mr.  Flint  take  it?  Mr. 
Flint,  it  may  be  said,  took  it  philosophically ;  and  when 
Austen  went  up  to  see  him  upon  this  matter,  he  shook 
hands  with  his  future  son-in-law,  —  and  they  agreed  to 
disagree.  And  beyond  this  it  is  safe  to  say  that  Mr. 
Flint  was  relieved  ;  for  in  his  secret  soul  he  had  for 
many  years  entertained  a  dread  that  Victoria  might  marry 
a  foreigner.  He  had  this  consolation  at  any  rate. 

His  wife  denied  herself  for  a  day  to  her  most  intimate 
friends,  —  for  it  was  she  who  had  entertained  visions  of  a 


494  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

title;  and  it  was  characteristic  of  the  Rose  of  Sharon  that 
she  knew  nothing  of  the  Vanes  beyond  the  name.  The 
discovery  that  the  Austens  were  the  oldest  family  in  the 
State  was  in  the  nature  of  a  balm;  and  henceforth,  in 
speaking  of  Austen,  she  never  failed  to  mention  the  fact 
that  his  great-grandfather  was  Minister  to  Spain  in  the 
'30's, —  a  period  when  her  own  was  engaged  in  a  far 
different  calling. 

And  Hilary  Vane  received  the  news  with  a  grim  satis 
faction,  Dr.  Tredway  believing  that  it  had  done  more  for 
him  than  any  medicine  or  specialists.  And  when,  one 
warm  October  day,  Victoria  herself  came  and  sat  beside 
the  canopied  bed,  her  conquest  was  complete:  he  surren 
dered  to  her  as  he  had  never  before  surrendered  to  man 
or  woman  or  child,  and  the  desire  to  live  surged  back  into 
his  heart,  —  the  desire  to  live  for  Austen  and  Victoria. 
It  became  her  custom  to  drive  to  Ripton  in  the  autumn 
mornings  and  to  sit  by  the  hour  reading  to  Hilary  in  the 
mellow  sunlight  in  the  lee  of  the  house,  near  Sarah 
Austen's  little  garden.  Yes,  Victoria  believed  she  had 
developed  in  him  a  taste  for  reading ;  although  he  would 
have  listened  to  Emerson  from  her  lips. 

And  sometimes,  when  she  paused  after  one  of  his  long 
silences  to  glance  at  him,  she  would  see  his  eyes  fixed, 
with  a  strange  rapt  look,  on  the  garden  or  the  dim  lav 
ender  form  of  Sawanec  through  the  haze,  and  knew  that 
he  was  thinking  of  a  priceless  thing  which  he  had  once 
possessed,  and  missed.  Then  Victoria  would  close  the 
volume,  and  fall  to  dreaming,  too. 

What  was  happiness  ?  Was  it  contentment  ?  If  it 
were,  it  might  endure,  —  contentment  being  passive.  But 
could  active,  aggressive,  exultant  joy  exist  for  a  lifetime, 
jealous  of  its  least  prerogative,  perpetually  watchful  for 
its  least  abatement,  singing  unending  anthems  on  its 
conquest  of  the  world  ?  The  very  intensity  of  her  feel 
ings  at  such  times  sobered  Victoria  —  alarmed  her.  Was 
not  perfection  at  war  with  the  world's  scheme,  and  did 
not  achievement  spring  from  a  void  ? 

But  when  Austen  appeared,  with  Pepper,  to  drive  her 


P.S.  495 

home  to  Fairview,  his  presence  never  failed  to  revive  the 
fierce  faith  that  it  was  his  destiny  to  make  the  world  better, 
and  hers  to  help  him.  Wondrous  afternoons  they  spent 
together  in  that  stillest  and  most  mysterious  of  seasons 
in  the  hill  country  —  autumn!  Autumn  and  happiness! 
Happiness  as  shameless  as  the  flaunting  scarlet  maples  on 
the  slopes,  defiant  of  the  dying  year  of  the  future,  shadowy 
and  unreal  as  the  hills  before  them  in  the  haze.  Once, 
after  a  long  silence,  she  started  from  a  revery  with  the 
sudden  consciousness  of  his  look  intent  upon  her,  and 
turned  with  parted  lips  and  eyes  which  smiled  at  him  out 
of  troubled  depths. 

"Dreaming,  Victoria?"  h.e  said. 

"  Yes,"  she  answered  simply,  and  was  silent  once  more. 
He  loved  these  silences  of  hers,  —  hinting,  as  they  did,  of 
unexplored  chambers  in  an  inexhaustible  treasure-house 
which  by  some  strange  stroke  of  destiny  was  his.  And 
yet  he  felt  at  times  the  vague  sadness  of  them,  like  the 
sadness  of  the  autumn,  and  longed  to  dispel  it. 

"It  is  so  wonderful,"  she  went  on  presently,  in  a  low 
voice,  "  it  is  so  wonderful  I  sometimes  think  that  it  must 
be  like  — like  this;  that  it  cannot  last.  I  have  been 
wondering  whether  we  shall  be  as  happy  when  the  world 
discovers  that  you  are  great." 

He  shook  his  head  at  her  slowly,  in  milcl  reproof. 

"Isn't  that  borrowing  trouble,  Victoria?"  he  said.  "I 
think  you  need  have  no  fear  of  finding  the  world  as  dis 
cerning  as  yourself." 

She  searched  his  face. 

"Will  you  ever  change?"  she  asked. 

"  Yes,"  he  said.  "  No  man  can  stand  such  flattery  as 
that  without  deteriorating,  I  warn  you.  I  shall  become 
consequential,  and  pompous,  and  altogether  insupportable, 
and  then  you  will  leave  me  and  never  realize  that  it  has 
been  all  your  fault." 

Victoria  laughed.  But  there  was  a  little  tremor  in  her 
voice,  and  her  eyes  still  rested  on  his  face. 

"  But  I  am  serious,  Austen,"  she  said.  "  I  sometimes 
feel  that,  in  the  future,  we  shall  not  always  have  many 


496  MR.   CREWE'S   CAREER 

such  days  as  these.  It's  selfish,  but  I  can't  help  it.  There 
are  so  many  things  you  will  have  to  do  without  me.  Don't 
you  ever  think  of  that  ?  " 

His  eyes  grew  grave,  and  he  reached  out  and  took  her 
hand  in  his. 

"  I  think,  rather,  of  the  trials  life  may  bring,  Victoria," 
he  answered,  "  of  the  hours  when  judgment  halts,  when 
the  way  is  not  clear.  Do  you  remember  the  last  night 
you  came  to  Jabe  Jenney's  ?  I  stood  in  the  road  long  after 
you  had  gone,  and  a  desolation  such  as  I  had  never  known 
came  over  me.  I  went  in  at  last,  and  opened  a  book  to 
some  verses  I  had  been  reading,  which  I  shall  never  forget. 
Shall  I  tell  you  what  they  were?  " 

"  Yes,"  she  whispered. 

"  They  contain  my  answer  to  your  question,"  he  said. 

"  What  became  of  all  the  hopes, 
Words  and  song  and  lute  as  well  ? 
Say,  this  struck  you  —  'When  life  gropes 
Feebly  for  the  path  where  fell 
Light" last  on  the  evening  slopes, 

" '  One  friend  in  that  path  shall  be, 
To  secure  my  step  from  wrong ; 
One  to  count  night  day  for  me, 
Patient  through  the  watches  long, 
Serving  most  with  none  to  see.' 

Victoria,  can  you  guess  who  that  friend  is?" 

She  pressed  his  hand  and  smiled  at  him,  but  her  eyes 

were  wet. 

"  I  have  thought  of  it  in  that  way,  too,  dear.     But  — 

but  I  did  not  know  that  you  had.     I  do  not  think  that 

many  men  have  that  point  of  view,  Austen." 

"  Many  men,"  he  answered,  "  have  not  the  same  reason 

to  be  thankful  as  I." 


There  is  a  time,  when  the  first  sharp  winds  which  fill 
the  air  with  flying  leaves  have  come  and  gone,  when  the 
stillness  has  come  again,  and  the  sunlight  is  tinged  with  a 


P.S.  497 

yellower  gold,  and  the  pastures  are  still  a  vivid  green,  and 
the  mountain  stained  with  a  deeper  blue  than  any  gem, 
called  Indian  summer.  And  it  was  in  this  season  that 
Victoria  and  Austen  were  married,  in  a  little  church  at 
Tunbridge,  near  Fairview,  by  the  bishop  of  the  diocese, 
who  was  one  of  Victoria's  dearest  friends.  Mr.  Thomas 
Gaylord  (for  whose  benefit  there  were  many  rehearsals) 
was  best  man,  Miss  Beatrice  Chillingham  maid  of  honour ; 
and  it  was  unanimously  declared  by  Victoria's  bridesmaids, 
who  came  up  from  New  York,  that  they  had  fallen  in  love 
with  the  groom. 

How  describe  the  wedding  breakfast  and  festivities  at 
Fairview  House,  on  a  November  day  when  young  ladies 
could  walk  about  the  lawns  in  the  filmiest  of  gowns  !  how 
recount  the  guests  and  leave  out  no  friends — for  none 
were  left  out !  Mr.  Jabe  Jenney  and  Mrs.  Jenney,  who 
wept  as  she  embraced  both  bride  and  groom ;  and  Eu- 
phrasia,  in  a  new  steel-coloured  silk  and  a  state  of  abso 
lute  subjection  and  incredulous  happiness.  Would  that 
there  were  time  to  chronicle  that  most  amazing  of  con 
quests  of  Victoria  over  Euphrasia  !  And  Mrs.  Pomfret, 
who,  remarkable  as  it  may  seem,  not  only  recognized 
Austen  without  her  lorgnette,  but  quite  overwhelmed  him 
with  an  unexpected  cordiality,  and  declared  her  intention 
of  giving  them  a  dinner  in  New  York. 

"  My  dear,"  she  said,  after  kissing  Victoria  twice,  "  he 
is  most  distinguished-looking  —  I  had  no  idea  —  and  a 
person  who  grows  upon  one.  And  I  am  told  he  is  de 
scended  from  Channing  Austen,  of  whom  I  have  often 
heard  my  grandfather  speak.  Victoria,  I  always  had  the 
greatest  confidence  in  your  judgment." 

Although  Victoria  had  a  memory  (wThat  woman  worth 
her  salt  has  not  ?),  she  was  far  too  happy  to  remind  Mrs. 
Pomfret  of  certain  former  occasions,  and  merely  smiled  in 
a  manner  which  that  lady  declared  to  be  enigmatic.  She 
maintained  that  she  had  never  understood  Victoria,  and  it 
was  characteristic  of  Mrs.  Pomfret  that  her  respect  in 
creased  in  direct  proportion  to  her  lack  of  understanding. 

Mr.    Thomas   Gaylord,  in   a  waistcoat  which  was  the 

2K 


498  MR.   CREWE'S  CAREER 

admiration  of  all  who  beheld  it,  proposed  the  health  of 
the  bride,  and  proved  indubitably  that  the  best  of  oratory 
has  its  origin  in  the  heart  and  not  in  the  mind,  —  for  Tom 
had  never  been  regarded  by  his  friends  as  a  Demosthenes. 
He  was  interrupted  from  time  to  time  by  shouts  of  laugh 
ter  ;  certain  episodes  in  the  early  career  of  Mr.  Austen 
Vane  (in  which,  if  Tom  was  to  be  believed,  he  was  an 
unwilling  participant)  were  particularly  appreciated.  And 
shortly  after  that,  amidst  a  shower  of  miscellaneous  arti 
cles  and  rice,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Vane  took  their  departure. 

They  drove  through  the  yellow  sunlight  to  Ripton,  with 
lingering  looks  at  the  hills  which  brought  back  memories 
of  joys  and  sorrows,  and  in  Hanover  Street  bade  good-by 
to  Hilary  Vane.  A  new  and  strange  contentment  shone 
in  his  face  as  he  took  Victoria's  hands  in  his,  and  they  sat 
with  him  until  Euphrasia  came.  It  was  not  until  they 
were  well  on  their  way  to  New  York  that  they  opened  the 
letter  he  had  given  them,  and  discovered  that  it  contained 
something  which  would  have  enabled  them  to  remain  in 
Europe  the  rest  of  their  lives  —  had  they  so  chosen. 

We  must  leave  them  amongst  the  sunny  ruins  of  Italy 
and  Greece  and  southern  France,  on  a  marvellous  journey 
that  was  personally  conducted  by  Victoria. 


Mr.  Crewe  was  unable  to  go  to  the  wedding,  having  to 
attend  a  directors'  meeting  of  some  importance  in  the 
West.  He  is  still  in  politics,  and  still  hopeful ;  and  he 
was  married,  not  long  afterwards,  to  Miss  Alice  Pomfret. 


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